"I goes on the stage just because I starts to cuss a dog I owns one day," said Blister. "It's the year they pull off one of these here panic things, and believe me the kale just fades from view! It you borrow a rub-rag, three ginnies come along to bring it back when you're through. If you happens to mention you ain't got your makin's with you, the nearest guy to you'll call the police. They wouldn't have a hoss trained that could run a mile in nothin'. "A dog out on grass don't cost but two bucks a month. It seems like the men I'm workin' fur all remembers this at once. When I'm through followin' shippin' instructions I'm down to one mutt, 'n' I owns him myself. He's some hoss--I don't think. He's got a splint big as a turkey egg that keeps him ouchy in front half the time, 'n' his heart ain't in the right place. I've filled his old hide so full of hop you could knock his eyes off with a club, tryin' to make him cop, but he won't come through--third is the best he'll do. "One day about noon I'm standin' lookin' in the stall door, watchin' him mince over his oats. They ain't nothin' good about this dog--not even his appetite. I ain't had a real feed myself fur three days, 'n' when I sees this ole counterfeit mussin' over his grub I opens up on him. "'Why, you last year's bird's nest!' I says to him. 'What th' hell right have you got to be fussy with your eats? They ain't a oat in that box but what out-classes you--they've all growed faster'n you can run! The only thing worse'n you is a ticket on you to win. If I pulls your shoes off 'n' has my choice between you 'n' them--I takes the shoes. If I wouldn't be pinched fur it I gives you to the first nut they lets out of the bughouse--you sour-bellied-mallet-headed-yellow pup! You cross between a canary 'n' a mud-turtle!' "That gets me sort-a warmed up, 'n' then I begins to really tell this dog what the sad sea waves is sayin'. When I can't think of nothin' more to call him, I stops. "'Outside of that he's all right, ain't he?' says some one behind me. "'No,' I says, 'he has other faults besides.' "I turns round 'n' there's a fat guy with a cigar in his face. He's been standin' there listenin'. He's got a chunk of ice stuck in his chest that you have to look at through smoked glasses. He's got another one just as big on his south hook. Take him all 'n' all he looks like the real persimmon. "'Do you own him?' says the fat guy. "'You've had no call to insult a stranger,' I says. 'But it's on me--I owns him.' "'I'm sorry you've got such a bad opinion of him,' he says. 'I was thinkin' of buyin' him.' "I looks around fur this guy's keeper--they ain't nobody in sight. "'This ain't such a bad hoss,' I says. 'Them remarks you hears don't mean nothin'. They're my regular pet names fur him.'