That was the way I got my dog down from the tree. This had its problems, too.
In the first place, Old Dan didn’t want to be put in the hole head first.
By scolding, pushing, shoving, and squeezing, I finally got him started on his way.
Like a fool, I sat there on the limb, waiting to see him come out at the bottom, and come out he did.
Turning around, bawling as he did, right back in the hole he went.
There was nothing I could do but sit and wait. I understood why his voice had stopped for a while.
He just took time out to climb a tree. Putting my ear to the hole, I could hear him coming.
Grunting and clawing, up he came. I helped him out of the hole, turned him around, and crammed him back in.
That time I wasn’t too gentle with my work. I was tired of sitting on the limb, and my bare feet were getting cold.
I started down the same time he did. He beat me down.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw him turn around and head back for the hole.
I wasn’t far from the ground so I let go. The flint rocks didn’t feel too good to my feet when I landed.
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