breath and staying under for as long as possible. I don't know what the people on the bank thought, for it must have been a peculiar sight to see two mongrels acting like performing seals. We romped around in the water, splashing and barging into each other, thoroughly cleansing ourselves with our vigorous actions. Five minutes was enough, and by mutual consent we headed for the shore. We clambered out, deliberately drenched the human onlookers, and began a game of chase to warm ourselves up.
By the time we got home we were both laughing and giggling, feeling fresh and alive as never before -
and, of course, ravenous. We found a well-wrapped packet of sandwiches that one of the Guvnor's workmen had foolishly left lying on a bench while he dismantled a broken engine, and we took them to our snug bedsitter, scoffing the lot within seconds. For once, to my surprise, we shared the food equally, Rumbo making no attempt to gobble the major portion. He grinned at me as I finished the last few crumbs and, after smacking my lips contentedly, I grinned back at him. Our differences were forgotten and Rumbo and I were friends again. There was a subtle change, however: I wasn't exactly equal to Rumbo now, but I was a little less inferior than I had been.
The pupil was beginning to catch up with the master.
Nine
So what of my feelings of being a man in a dog's body?
Well, they certainly never left me, but they didn't often play an important part in my thinking. You see, I was developing as a dog, and this development took up most of my time. I was always conscious of my heritage and my human instincts often took over from my canine tendencies, but my physical capabilities were those of a dog (apart from my extraordinary vision) and this governed my attitude. There were many times - nights mostly - when memories fought their way to the surface and questions, questions, questions, tussled with my mind; and there were many times when I was completely and wholly a dog, with no other thoughts but dog thoughts.
I recognised my similarity to Rumbo and I'm sure he recognised it too. The disturbing fact was that I also recognised it in the big rat. Had Rumbo? He was deliberately vague when I tackled him on our difference to others of our kind, and I was never quite sure whether he understood it or if it was just as big a mystery to him. He would shrug his shoulders and dismiss the subject with a remark such as 'Some animals are dumber than others, that's all.' But I would often find him regarding me with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
So I lived my life with Rumbo and the urge to discover the truth of my existence was held in abeyance while I learned to live that life.
Page 44
Like all dogs, I was fanatically curious; nothing near me went unsniffed, nothing loose went untugged, and nothing pliable went unchewed. Rumbo would lose patience, scold me for behaving like any other stupid mutt (although he liked a good sniff and chew himself) and would generally berate me for my inquisitiveness. We had many afternoons or evenings when he did answer my questions (he had to be in a relaxed and talkative mood to do so), but when he thought too long or too deeply he would become confused and irritable. I often seemed to be about to learn something of significance - perhaps a clue to my own strange existence or a reason for our obviously more advanced development to others of our kind - when his eyes would become blank and he'd go into a long, trance-like silence. It would frighten me, for I would think I'd pushed him too far, his searching mind becoming lost within itself, unable to find the route back. On such occasions I was afraid he'd become just another dog. Then he would blink a few times, look around curiously as though surprised at his surroundings, and carry on talking, ignoring the question I'd asked. These were strange and apprehensive moments for me, so I refrained from triggering them off too frequently.
Other apprehensive moments were
By the time we got home we were both laughing and giggling, feeling fresh and alive as never before -
and, of course, ravenous. We found a well-wrapped packet of sandwiches that one of the Guvnor's workmen had foolishly left lying on a bench while he dismantled a broken engine, and we took them to our snug bedsitter, scoffing the lot within seconds. For once, to my surprise, we shared the food equally, Rumbo making no attempt to gobble the major portion. He grinned at me as I finished the last few crumbs and, after smacking my lips contentedly, I grinned back at him. Our differences were forgotten and Rumbo and I were friends again. There was a subtle change, however: I wasn't exactly equal to Rumbo now, but I was a little less inferior than I had been.
The pupil was beginning to catch up with the master.
Nine
So what of my feelings of being a man in a dog's body?
Well, they certainly never left me, but they didn't often play an important part in my thinking. You see, I was developing as a dog, and this development took up most of my time. I was always conscious of my heritage and my human instincts often took over from my canine tendencies, but my physical capabilities were those of a dog (apart from my extraordinary vision) and this governed my attitude. There were many times - nights mostly - when memories fought their way to the surface and questions, questions, questions, tussled with my mind; and there were many times when I was completely and wholly a dog, with no other thoughts but dog thoughts.
I recognised my similarity to Rumbo and I'm sure he recognised it too. The disturbing fact was that I also recognised it in the big rat. Had Rumbo? He was deliberately vague when I tackled him on our difference to others of our kind, and I was never quite sure whether he understood it or if it was just as big a mystery to him. He would shrug his shoulders and dismiss the subject with a remark such as 'Some animals are dumber than others, that's all.' But I would often find him regarding me with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
So I lived my life with Rumbo and the urge to discover the truth of my existence was held in abeyance while I learned to live that life.
Page 44
Like all dogs, I was fanatically curious; nothing near me went unsniffed, nothing loose went untugged, and nothing pliable went unchewed. Rumbo would lose patience, scold me for behaving like any other stupid mutt (although he liked a good sniff and chew himself) and would generally berate me for my inquisitiveness. We had many afternoons or evenings when he did answer my questions (he had to be in a relaxed and talkative mood to do so), but when he thought too long or too deeply he would become confused and irritable. I often seemed to be about to learn something of significance - perhaps a clue to my own strange existence or a reason for our obviously more advanced development to others of our kind - when his eyes would become blank and he'd go into a long, trance-like silence. It would frighten me, for I would think I'd pushed him too far, his searching mind becoming lost within itself, unable to find the route back. On such occasions I was afraid he'd become just another dog. Then he would blink a few times, look around curiously as though surprised at his surroundings, and carry on talking, ignoring the question I'd asked. These were strange and apprehensive moments for me, so I refrained from triggering them off too frequently.
Other apprehensive moments were
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