... My dog was
present at the first operation. An hour after my departure he
escaped and came to me at Anzin.
But when the Zouave was sent to Neuilly the two friends had to separate.
At the railway station he begged to take his dog along, and told his
story; but the field officer, touched though he was, could not take it
upon himself to send a dog on a military train. The distress of both man
and beast was so evident that more than one nurse had tears in her eyes
as the train pulled out.
They tried to pet the dog, dubbed him Tue-Boches, offered him dog
delicacies of all sorts, but in vain. He refused all food and remained
for two days "sad to death." Then some one went to the American
Hospital, told how the dog had saved the Zouave, and the upshot of it
was that the faithful animal, duly combed and passed through the
disinfecting room, was admitted to the hospital and recovered his master
and his appetite. But at last accounts his master was still very weak,
and "in the short visit which the dog is allowed to make each day, he
knows perfectly, after a tender and discreet good morning, how to hold
himself very wisely at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed upon his
patient.
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