Books with title Hero: A War Dog's Tale

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self-described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten by the father of the family with a cane, resulting in her leg getting broken. Soon, however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies, killed by the father of the family to prove his opinion on optics to his scientist peers. Only a servant seems to realize the irony of this, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog (who does not realize her puppy is dead until her own hour is upon her) pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

was right or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she would be away down wind on another t

was right or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she would be away down wind on another t

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

was right or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she would be away down wind on another t

The book is told from the standpoint of a loyal household pet, a dog self described by the first sentence of the story; "My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian." The story begins with a description of the dog's life as a puppy and her separation from her mother, which to her was inexplicable. Her puppy and her owner's new child were soon added to her new home. When a fire breaks out in the nursery, the dog risks her life to drag the baby to safety. In the process, her motives are misunderstood and she is cruelly beaten. Soon however, the truth of the situation is discovered and she receives no end of praise. Later in the story, her puppy dies as a result of the owner's biological experiments. Only a servant seems to realize the irony, exclaiming, "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child!" In the end, the dog pines inconsolable over the grave of the puppy with the clear implication that she will do so until death.

was right or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she would be away down wind on .