Explore "Boy the Wandering Dog" by Marshall Saunders on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He was sleeping like a boy. I hated to disturb him, and I ran to the door leading to the hall, and smelt hard under it. Nothing there -- I went back to bed, but my uneasiness increased so terribly, that, at last, if I had not aroused my master, I should have burst into terrible howling which would have disturbed the household and waked the baby.
I pulled hard at the sleeve of his pajamas. "Master, master, wake up."