Explore "Boy the Wandering Dog" by Marshall Saunders on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I jumped up on the window-seat and looked about me. Some men have comforts, some don't. This man had a beautiful room overlooking the river, with a nice, white bath-room off it. He splashed and tumbled about in the water, then he dressed himself, and all the while he examined me.
I licked a few stray hairs in place, and took some mud off my paws with my tongue, to let him see I was as clean in my ways as he was. I knew he would not associate with me if I was a dirty dog.