让我留在你的身边：汉英对照(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：暖小昕

出版社：北京联合出版公司

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

让我留在你的身边：汉英对照试读：

一只狗的遗嘱 The Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog

我叫席尔维丹·安伯伦·奥尼尔，而家人、朋友和熟悉我的人，都叫我伯莱明。衰老带给我的负担让我认识到自己已经走到了生命的尽头，因此，我将把最后的情感和遗嘱埋葬于主人的心中。直到我死后，他才会蓦然发现，这些情感和遗嘱就埋藏在他心灵的一隅，当他孤寂时，或许会想起我，然而就在那一瞬间，他会突然感受到这份遗嘱的内容，我期望他能将此铭记于心，当作纪念。

我可以遗留下来的实物少得可怜。其实我们比人类更聪明，我们不会将一些乱七八糟的东西收藏在一个大仓库里，也不会把时间浪费在储藏金钱上，更不会为了那些得到了的和没有得到的东西而辗转难眠。除了爱和信赖，我没有什么值钱的东西可以留给他人。我将这些留给所有爱过我的人，首先要留给我的男主人和女主人，我知道他们会为我的离去献上最深切的哀悼；其次要留给曾经善待我的弗里曼；还要留给茜、罗、威利和诺米。当然，如果可能的话，我会强迫我的主人写一本书，并把所有爱过我的人的名字列入书中。死亡是世间一切生灵都无法拒绝的一个过程，对于即将面临死亡的我来说，说这些大话简直是徒劳。可是要知道我一直都是惹人喜欢的狗，也该让我的这点虚荣心得到满足吧。

希望我的男女主人能将我牢记在心，但不要为我悲伤太久。在我的有生之年，我会竭尽所能在他们悲伤时，给他们慰藉；在他们开心时，为他们增添几分欢愉。但一想到我的死将会给他们带来悲伤，便令我痛苦不已。

我要让他们知道，没有任何狗曾像我这样快乐地生活过，而这全都得归功于他们对我的关爱。如今我已经变得又瞎又聋还瘸，连昔日灵敏的嗅觉也丧失殆尽。现在，即使是一只兔子在我的鼻子底下恣意走动，我也可能浑然不觉，我的尊严已经在病痛和衰老中消失。这是一种莫名的耻辱，生命似乎也在嘲笑我的无能。我知道，我该在疾病成为自己以及所有爱我的人的负担之前与他们道别。

我的悲伤来自于即将离开自己所爱的人，而非死亡。狗并不像人一样惧怕死亡，我们接受死亡为生命的一部分，并非认为那是一种毁掉生命的恐怖灵异。有谁能够知道死亡之后会是什么呢？

我宁愿相信我去往的是天堂。那里的每个人都青春永驻，美食饱腹；那里每天都有浪漫精彩的事情发生，那里的美女近乎完美无瑕；那里的杰克兔如天堂美女一样轻盈地奔跑于沙漠中。在那里，我们时刻都可以享受到美味佳肴。在每个漫长的夜晚，都有无数永不熄灭的壁炉。那些燃烧的木柴一根根卷曲起来，闪烁着火焰的光芒。我们倦怠地打着盹儿，进入甜蜜的梦乡。梦中会再现我们在人世间的英勇时光以及对男主人和女主人的无限爱怜。

恐怕我的这些期盼对于一只狗来说太多了，但平静和安详一定是有的。给予衰老疲倦的身心一个安详而长久的休憩之所，让我在人世间得以长眠。我已享受到充裕的爱。这里，将是我最完美的归宿。

我最后还有一个诚挚的祈求。我曾听到女主人说：“伯莱明死后，我再也不会养别的狗了。我是如此爱他，这种感情无法倾注到别的狗身上。”

如今我要恳求她，再养一只狗吧！把对我的那些爱给他。永不再养别的狗，并不会加重她对我的回忆之情。

我希望能够感受到，这个家庭一旦有了我之后，便无法再生活在没有狗的日子里。我绝不是那种心胸狭窄、嫉妒心强的狗。我一直认为大部分的狗都是善良的（像我一样，晚上，我愿意与一只猫，甚至是黑猫分享卧室内的那块地毯，我用善良的心灵忍受着他那暴躁的脾气，很少和他动怒，也从不斤斤计较）。当然了，善良的狗还有很多。众所周知，达尔马提亚狗是最好的狗。

所以，我建议让达尔马提亚狗做我的接班人。他们的繁殖能力不强，但是他们举止高雅，而且有着与众不同的帅气，就像我年轻时一样。我的男主人和女主人千万不要勉强他做无法办到的事情。但他会尽力把一切事情做到最好，一定会的！当然他有一些不可避免的缺点，别人总会拿这些缺点与我比较，这反而有助于他们对我的回忆常葆如新。把我的颈圈、皮带、外套和雨衣留给他，这是您1929年在巴黎的爱马仕为我定做的。以往大家总会用赞叹的眼光看着我穿戴这些东西，绕过温德姆宫殿，沿着公园大道走下去。虽然他穿戴起来绝对无法像我那样英姿飒爽，但我深信，他一定会竭尽所能不表现得像只笨拙、没见过世面的狗。

在这个牧场上，他也许会在某些方面，证明自己是可以和我媲美的。我想，至少在追逐杰克兔这件事上，他一定会表现得比我衰老时优秀。虽然他有许多无法弥补的缺点，但我依然希望他在我的老家过得幸福快乐。

亲爱的男女主人，这是我道别的最后一个请求了。

无论什么时候，你们到我的坟前看我，借助我与你们相伴一生长久、快乐的回忆，请以满怀哀伤而欢欣的口吻对自己说：“这里埋葬着爱我们的和我们爱的朋友。”

不管我睡得多沉，依旧可以听到你们的呼唤，所有的死神都无法阻止我朝你们欢快地摇尾巴。

I Silverdene Emblem O'Neill（familiarly known to my family，friends and acquaintances as Blemie），because the burden of my years is heavy upon me，and I realize the end of my life is near，do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until I am dead. Then，remembering me in his loneliness，he will suddenly know of this testament，and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.

I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their time hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about objects they have，and to obtain the objects they have not.

There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to those who have loved me，to my Master and Mistress，who I know will mourn me most；to Freeman who has been so good to me；to Cyn and Roy and Willie and Naomi and but if I should list all those who have loved me it would force my Master to write a book. Perhaps it is in vain of me to boast when I am so near death，which returns all beasts and vanities to dust，but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.

I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always，but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow，and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain.

Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life（and this I owe to their love and care for me），now that I have grown blind and deaf andlame，and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know，my pride has sunk to a sick，bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having over lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye，before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me.

It will be sorrow to leave them，but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as a part of life，not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death，who knows？

I would like to believe that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered；here all the day one dillies and dallies with an amorous multitude of houris，beautifully spotted；where jack-rabbits that run fast but not too fast（like the houris）are as the sands of the desert；where each blissful hour is mealtime；where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams，remembering the old brave days on earth，and the love of one's Master and Mistress.

I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace，at least，is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs，and eternal sleeps in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps，after all，this is best.

One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say，“When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.”

Now I would ask her，for love of me，to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again.

What I would like to feel is that，having once had me in the family，now shecannot live without a dog！I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good（and one cat，the black one I have permitted to share the living-room rug during the evenings，whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit，and in rare sentimental moods，even reciprocated a trifle）. Some dogs，of course，are better than others. Dalmatians，naturally，as everyone knows，are best.

So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well-bred，or as well-mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best，I am sure，and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat，made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can never wear them with the distinction I did，walking around the Place Vendome，or later along Park Avenue，all eyes fixed on me in admiration；but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog.

Here on the ranch，he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison，in some respects. He will，I presume，come closer to jack-rabbits than I have been able to in recent years. And，for all his faults，I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.

One last word of farewell，dear Master and Mistress.

Whenever you visit my grave，say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you：“Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.”

No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you，and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.

忠实的朋友 A Friend in Need Is a Friend Indeed

布朗尼和斯波蒂是邻居，他们每天都会在一起玩耍。与几乎能在任何邻里间找到的成对的狗一样，他们互相倾慕，常在一起，以致于两家之间的草地上已经被他们踏出了一条小路。

一天傍晚，布朗尼的主人发现他没有回家，到处找遍了也没找到。第二天，依然没有看到布朗尼。尽管大家还在努力寻找，可直到第二周，还是没有找到。

让人不解的是，斯波蒂独自跑到布朗尼的主人家，吠叫、哀嚎，还总是缠着布朗尼的主人们，但他们忙于自己的事，根本不理会邻居家这只精神有点问题的小狗。

一天早上，斯波蒂再也不满意被拒绝。这只暴怒的、不依不饶的小狗围着布朗尼的主人特德叫个不停。斯波蒂死死跟着特德，汪汪地叫着，然后冲到近处的空地上，又跑回来，似乎在说：“跟我来！有情况！”

最后，特德跟着这只发疯似的小狗穿过空地，小狗停步奔回，吼叫着，催特德快点。他领着特德从一棵树下穿过，经过树丛，最后在离房子半英里远的一处荒地停了下来。在那里，特德发现他心爱的布朗尼还活着，只是一条后腿被一个钢制捕捉器夹着。特德很吃惊，为当初没有认真对待斯波蒂的求助而感到后悔。随后，他看到了惊人的一幕。

斯波蒂不仅把布朗尼的主人带到了他被困的朋友跟前，而且在受伤的布朗尼身旁，特德还发现了一圈狗食和餐桌上的残羹剩饭——后来证实那是那个星期他们每餐喂斯波蒂吃剩下的食物！

斯波蒂一直定时来看望布朗尼，下决心要让他的朋友活下去，为了朋友，他不辞劳苦。显然，斯波蒂陪伴着布朗尼，以免其他捕食动物侵袭他，夜里偎依着他，把温暖送给他，用鼻子拱他让他振作精神。

兽医把布朗尼的腿伤治好了。此后多年，两家邻居不时会看到这对忠实的朋友嬉戏玩耍，在两家房子之间的小路上你追我赶。

Brownie and Spotty were neighbor dogs who met every day to play together. Like pairs of dogs you can find in most any neighborhood，these two loved each other and played together so often that they had worn a path through the grass of the field between their respective houses.

One evening，Brownie's family noticed that Brownie hadn't returned home. They went looking for him with no success. Brownie didn't show up the next day，and，despite their efforts to find him，by the next week he was still missing.

Curiously，Spotty showed up at Brownie's house alone. Barking，whining and generally pestering Brownie's human family. Busy with their own lives，they just ignored the nervous little neighbor dog.

Finally，one morning Spotty refused to take“no”for an answer. Ted，Brownie's owner，was steadily harassed by the furious，adamant little dog. Spotty followed Ted about，barking insistently，then darting toward a nearby empty lot and back，as if to say，“Follow me！It's urgent！”

Eventually，Ted followed the frantic Spotty across the empty lot as Spotty paused to race back and bark encouragingly. The little dog led the man under a tree，past clumps of trees，to a desolate spot，a half mile from the house. There Ted found his beloved Brownie alive，one of his hind legs crushed in a steel leg-hold trap. Horrified，Ted now wished he'd taken Spotty's earlier appeals seriously. Then Ted noticed something quite remarkable.

Spotty had done more than simply led Brownie's human owner to his trapped friend. In a circle around the injured dog，Ted found an array of dog food and table scraps—which were later identified as the remains of every meal Spottyhad been fed that week！

Spotty had been visiting Brownie regularly，in a single-minded quest to keep his friend alive by sacrificing his own comfort. Spotty had evidently stayed with Brownie to protect him from predators，snuggling with him at night to keep him warm and nuzzling him to keep his spirits up.

Brownie's leg was treated by a veterinarian and he recovered. For many years thereafter，the two families watched the faithful friends frolicking and chasing each other down that well-worn path between their houses.

一只狗狗的告白 A Dog's Last Will

When I was a puppy，I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child，and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows，I became your best friend. Whenever I was“bad”，you'd shake your finger at me and ask“How could you？”—but then you'd relent，and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected，because you were terribly busy，but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams，and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park，car rides，stops for ice cream（I only got the cone because“ice cream is bad for dogs”，you said），and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually，you began spending more time at work and on your career，and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently，comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments，never chided you about bad decisions，and romped with glee at your homecomings，and when you fell in love. She，now your wife，is not a“dog person”—still I welcomed her into our home，tried to show her affection，and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.

Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness，how they smelled，and I wanted to mother them，too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them，and I spent most of my time banished to another room，or to a dog crate. Oh，how I wanted to love them，but I became a“prisoner of love”. As they began to grow，I became their friend.They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs，poked fingers in my eyes，investigated my ears，and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch—because your touch was now so infrequent—and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams，and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time，when others asked you if you had a dog，that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years，you just answered“yes”and changed the subject. I had gone from being“your dog”to“just a dog”，and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now，you have a new career opportunity in another city，and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your“family”，but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats，of fear，of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said“I know you will find a good home for her”. They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog，even one with“papers”. You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar，as he screamed ，“No，Daddy. Please don't let them take my dog！”And I worried for him，and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty，about love and responsibility，and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head，avoided my eyes，and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and nowI have one，too. After you left，the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked ，“How could you？”

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us，of course，but I lost my appetite days ago. At first，whenever anyone passed my pen，I rushed to the front，hoping it was you—that you had changed your mind—that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared，anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies，oblivious to their own fate，I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day，and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears，and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come，but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature，I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her，and I know that，the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body，I lay down sleepily，looked into her kind eyes and murmured，“How could you？”

Perhaps because she understood my dog speak，she said“I'm so sorry.”She hugged me，and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a betterplace，where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned，or have to fend for myself—a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy，I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my“How could you？”was not directed at her. It was you，My Beloved Master，I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

预知未来的狗 Jim the Wonder Dog

萨姆·范·阿斯代尔是密苏里州马歇尔镇拉夫旅馆的老板。1925年，他从路易斯安那州买回了一只英国塞特小猎狗。他被认为是这窝小狗中最没前途的一只，并且几乎是以白送的价格卖的。这只小狗看上去毫无特别之处，像大多数狗一样，有着一双大爪子和一张丑陋的嘴脸。萨姆决定叫他“吉姆”。

吉姆渐渐成为萨姆的亲密伙伴，他机灵、温顺，萨姆对这个“便宜货”很满意。

吉姆3岁的一天，他们路过一片林地。天气闷热，萨姆对吉姆说：“过来，小家伙！我们到一棵山核桃树下休息一会儿。”

林子中长有许多不同品种的树，吉姆却径直朝一棵山核桃树跑去。萨姆不禁有些惊讶，他想一定是巧合。他一时来了兴致，对吉姆说：“告诉我哪棵是黑橡树？”吉姆跑到最近的那棵黑橡树前，并把前爪搭在树上。萨姆大为吃惊，简直不敢相信这是真的。“告诉我哪棵是胡桃树？”他说。吉姆又准确无误地跑到最近的胡桃树旁，把爪子放在树上。萨姆继续用凡是他能想到的东西来考吉姆——树墩、榛树丛、雪松，甚至锡罐，吉姆都能准确无误地辨别出来。他几乎无法相信自己亲眼所见的这一切。一只狗怎么可能做到这些呢？

回到家，萨姆把一切告诉了他的妻子。

妻子漠然地说：“萨姆·范·阿斯代尔，你可以和我讲这些来哄我开心，但千万别讲给其他人听。”萨姆劝服了妻子，再次和他来到树林中。吉姆准确无误地重新辨认了一番。妻子摇头说道——萨姆的蠢话居然是真的！

接下来的几天，萨姆按捺不住内心的喜悦，对他镇上的朋友说他那伶俐乖巧的狗能做的事情。他们对萨姆报以宽容的一笑，继而不以为然地匆匆走开。

其中有一个人耐心地听萨姆讲述完，当然他还是很怀疑。萨姆看到那人的车停在几码远的路边，就命令吉姆指出哪辆车子是他的。吉姆便径直走到那辆车前，把前爪放在车上。

接着，另一个人把自己的车牌号告诉了萨姆。萨姆把它写在一张纸上，并放到了人行道上。他让吉姆辨别出那辆车，吉姆便毫不迟疑地走向那个与车牌号对应的车子。

经过多次验证，吉姆的名声似野火般遍及整个小镇。不久，他在拉夫旅馆向惊讶不已的人们展示了他那似乎永无止境的特异功能，每次都有数百名观众前来观看。当客人都在大厅时，他能判断出他们各自所住的房间号，其依据就是人们的衣着，头发的颜色（尽管事实上狗是色盲）及职业，如果是军人的话，则依据其军衔。

有人怀疑说，萨姆可能偷着给吉姆发出某些信号。虽然萨姆的朋友和熟人没人怀疑他的诚实，都知道萨姆是个从不骗人的老实人，但有位妇人还是想验证一下，萨姆是否真的给吉姆发出信号。她有了一个好主意，她用速记符号写了些萨姆不懂的指令。萨姆给吉姆看了写有指令的纸，并让他按纸上说的去做。吉姆便立刻向一个男人走去。那妇人喊道：“他还真对了！”然后她解释说，那指令是“把穿翻短袜的男人指给我们看”。

吉姆声名远扬，马歇尔小镇以外的人都知道他。全国各地报刊杂志的记者络绎不绝地来竞相报道他的故事。与其他人一样，他们都满怀惊讶地离去。吉姆自此有了“神犬”的美称。

吉姆的事迹也引起了学术界和医学界的极大好奇。密苏里州立大学的兽医在对吉姆进行了身体检查后说，他和其他狗没什么两样，身体毫无异样的构造。他们对吉姆的特异功能无法解释。

一天，几个朋友劝萨姆再对吉姆进行一下测试。看他是否能预测未来。萨姆对肯塔基赛马很感兴趣。那年，他把所有参赛马的名字写在纸条上，并放到地上，让吉姆指出将要胜出的马。吉姆把爪子放在了其中一张纸上，随后这张纸条被放进了保险箱保存起来，一直到比赛结束。最后，果真是吉姆挑的那匹马夺得了冠军。第二年，吉姆又预测对了，连续七年，年年如此。

萨姆并不是个嗜赌的人，从没想过利用吉姆的预测能力来使自己获利。他收到许多来电来函，要求吉姆预测出将会胜出的马。有些人提出会和萨姆分享奖金，但萨姆从未心动过。派拉蒙电影公司开出诱人的高价邀请吉姆参加为期一年的影片拍摄，也没使萨姆动心。萨姆是个沉稳审慎的中西部人，他说他的确不需要那笔钱，也不愿使吉姆趋于商业化。

萨姆和吉姆的关系随着时间的流逝而日益密切。萨姆对吉姆有着深厚的爱，就像一个人对待他最亲密的朋友一样。这只狗极有天赋，能完成萨姆交给他的所有任务，这也是他忠于主人的一个方面。1937年，12岁的吉姆与世长辞，萨姆伤心欲绝。整个马歇尔镇都在为失去吉姆而悲痛。吉姆葬于山岭园公墓，白色的小墓碑上写着：神犬吉姆。

In 1925，Sam Van Arsdale，proprietor of the Ruff Hotel in Marshall，Missouri，purchased an English setter puppy in Louisiana. The puppy was considered the least promising of the litter and was sold at a throwaway price. The dog was nothing special to look at as he had usually big paws and an ungainly appearance. Sam decided to call him Jim.

Jim grew to be a fine companion for Sam. The dog was smart and good-natured，and Sam was pleased with his“bargain”.

One day，when Jim was three years old，he and Sam were walking through the woods. The weather was hot，and Sam said to Jim，“Come，boy，let's go and rest a little under a hickory tree.”

There were many types of trees in the woods，but Jim ran straight over to a hickory tree. Sam was a bit surprised. No doubt it was just a coincidence. On a whim，Sam said to Jim，“Show me a black oak tree.”When Jim ran to the nearest black oak and put his right paw on the tree，Sam was amazed. This couldn't possibly be true.

“Show me walnut tree，”he said，and Jim ran unerringly to the nearest walnut and put his paw on it. Sam continued with everything he could think of—a stump，hazel bushes，a cedar tree，even a tin can. Jim correctly identified them all. Sam could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. How could a dog do such things？

Sam went home and told his wife what had happened.

She said flatly，“Sam Van Arsdale，you can tell me，but don't go telling anyone else.”Sam persuaded his wife to accompany them back to the woods，where Jimput on a flawless repeat performance. She shook her head in amazement—Sam's crazy story was true！

Over the next few days，Sam couldn't help telling his friends around town what his smart dog could do. They smiled at him indulgently and moved off pretty fast.

One man did listen，although of course he was skeptical. Sam，noticing that the man had parked his car on the street a few yards away，told Jim to show the man which car was his. Jim went straight to the car and put his front paw on it.

Then another man gave Sam the license plate number of his car. Sam wrote it down on a piece of paper and put the paper on the sidewalk. He told Jim to identify the car. Without hesitation，Jim walked to the car in question.

After incidents like these，Jim's reputation spread like wildfire around the small town. Soon he was demonstrating his powers in the Ruff Hotel for amazed crowds of up to a hundred people at a time. There seemed to be no limit to what Jim could do. When people were in the lobby，he could determine what room numbers they occupied in the hotel，it could identify people according to the clothes they wore，the color of their hair—in spite of the fact that dogs are thought to be color-blind—their profession，and，in the case of the military，their rank.

Perhaps，the skeptics said，Sam was secretly signaling to Jim. Although none of Sam's friends and associates questioned his integrity，knowing him to be a plain-speaking man who wouldn't dream of deceiving others，one woman decided to test this theory. She had the clever idea to write an instruction for Jim in shorthand；which Sam did not understand. When Sam showed Jim the paper onwhich the instruction was written，and told him to do whatever it said，Jim went over to a certain man. The woman shouted，“He's doing it！”Then she explained that the instruction was，“Show us the man with rolled socks.”

Jim's reputation spread far beyond the small town of Marshall. Newspapers and magazines from all over the country sent reporters to cover the story. They went away，like everyone else，amazed. Jim became known as the Wonder Dog.

Jim's feats aroused scientific and medical curiosity. He was examined by veterinarians at Missouri State University，who said that there was nothing unusual about Jim—physically，he was just like any other dog. They could offer no explanation for his uncanny talent.

One day，some friends persuaded Sam to test Jim further. Could he possibly predict the future？ Sam took an interest in the Kentucky Derby，so that year he wrote down the names of the horses on pieces of paper that he then laid on the floor. He asked Jim to select the horse that would win. Jim put his paw on one of the slips of paper，which was then put in a locked safe until after the race. It turned out that Jim had picked the winner. He repeated his success the following year，and so on for seven successive years.

Sam was not a gambling man and never attempted to profit from Jim's abilities to foretell the future. He received many letters and telegrams requesting Jim's predictions of winning horses. Some people offered to split the profits with Sam. But Sam never wavered. Nor was he interested in a lucrative offer from Paramount for Jim to work in movies for a year. Like the modest midwesterner he was，Sam said he didn't really need the money and didn't want to commercialize Jim.

As time passed，the bond between Sam and Jim grew. Sam's love for Jim was that of a man for his greatest friend. And the dog's ability to do anything Sam asked was just one facet of Jim's deep devotion towards Sam. So when Jim died at the age of twelve in 1937，Sam was devastated. And indeed，the whole town of Marshall was stunned by the loss. Jim was buried in the Ridge Park Cemetery，where his small white headstone reads：Jim the Wonder Dog.

牧牛犬 Bingo

1882年，宾戈在我们家的小木屋里度过了那个冬季余下的时光。他是一只胖胖的、笨笨的，但心地善良的小狗。他每天总是毫无节制地吃东西，于是他长得越来越大，也越来越笨。即使悲惨的经历也不曾教会他一定要让鼻子远离捕鼠夹。他对猫极为友好，却被猫完全误解了，因此导致了一场武装对立。这场偶尔会因恐惧才会有所变化的对立一直僵持到最后，直至早就显示出聪明头脑的宾戈懂得了干脆离开小木屋睡到谷仓里才算了结。

春天来了，我开始认真地对他进行训练。我费了很大的周折，宾戈也费了很大的劲儿。他慢慢地学会了随时听从命令去跟踪我们家那头老黄牛，那头牛总在没有栅栏约束的草地上随意吃草。

一旦学会了他要做的事，他就会全身心地去做这件分内之事，没有比要他去追回老黄牛更令他高兴的事了。他一下蹿得老远，兴奋得上蹿下跳，欢快地狂吠，并往空中跳得老高，这样有助于他更好地通过查看草地来寻找猎物。不一会儿，他便会拼命地往回跑，把牛赶在他面前。老黄牛气喘吁吁，上气不接下气，在被安全赶进牛棚最远的某个角落之前，他是不会让老黄牛有片刻休息的。

他如果不这么卖力，会令我们更满意。不过，我们一直对他都很宽容，直到他对这每天两次的“搜捕”活动喜欢到不用督促就主动去找“老邓恩”的时候。后来，这只精力旺盛的牧牛狗不是一天一两次地去履行自己的职责，而是一天十几次地把老黄牛赶回牛棚。

再后来，事情到了这种程度：无论什么时候，只要宾戈想稍微活动一下，或者想有几分钟的闲暇时间，甚至是刚好想放松一下，他就撒腿向草地飞奔，几分钟后又跑回来，拼命地把那头倒霉的老黄牛赶在前面。

最初，这看起来并不糟糕，因为他这样做可以使牛不至于跑得太远；但不久，我们便发现他这样做使老黄牛不能吃草。她瘦了，挤出的奶也越来越少，总是忧心忡忡的样子，因为她始终要紧张兮兮地警惕着那只恶狗，每天早晨她只在牛棚附近转转，似乎不敢贸然远走，免得自己立刻遭到攻击。

宾戈简直太过分了。我们想尽了一切办法让他收敛一些，但都无济于事。我们索性迫使他放弃自己的乐趣。自那以后，虽然他不敢再赶老黄牛回家了，但对老黄牛依然有着浓厚的兴趣，他会躺在牛棚门口看挤奶。

夏天来了，蚊多如灾，在挤奶的时候，邓恩不得不把尾巴摆来摆去的，以驱赶蚊子，这比蚊子本身还招人烦。

弗莱德，就是负责挤奶的那位老兄，是个极有发明天赋的人，也是个极没有耐心的人，想出了一个简单的制止牛摆尾巴的方法。他在牛尾巴上绑了一块砖头，就开开心心地开始工作了，他对这与众不同的办法很放心，我们其他人却对此表示怀疑，都站在旁边看着。

突然，蚊群中传来了一声沉闷的撞击声和一阵“破口大骂”，老黄牛静静地嚼着草，弗莱德站起身来，愤怒地举着挤奶用的凳子扔向她。被这个蠢笨的老黄牛的尾巴上的砖头砸到头，已经够糟糕了，何况还有围观的人群的哄笑声，这更让他难以忍受。

宾戈听到了吵闹声，以为有人需要他的帮助，便冲过去从另一侧向邓恩发起攻势。待到事件平息下来时，牛奶都洒了，盆子和凳子也都破了，奶牛和狗都狠狠地挨了一顿揍。

可怜的宾戈还不知道究竟为什么自己会挨打。他早就知道该鄙视这头牛。从这以后，因为对她极为讨厌，他决定不再跨过牛棚的门槛，从那时起，他便全心全意地守护在马厩旁看着马群。

我养牛，我的兄弟养的是马。宾戈把忠心从牛棚转移到了马棚，好像连我也一并放弃了。他每天不再跟着我玩，但只要一有紧急情况出现，宾戈总会来帮我，我也会去帮他。我们似乎都有一种感觉——人狗之间的这种感情要持续一辈子。宾戈对马的忠心显而易见：白天跟着马群东奔西跑，夜里睡在马厩门口。马队到哪里，他就到哪里，没有什么力量可以使他离开马群。他全然一副主人的样子，这种关系很有趣，也使后来发生的那件事显得意味深长。

我不是一个迷信之人，迄今为止我也不相信什么征兆之类的事，但有一件怪事给我留下了深刻的印象，宾戈就是这件事的主角。那时，我们当中有两个人住在德温顿农场。一天早上，我的兄弟要到沼泽湾去买一车草料，来回需要整整一天的时间，所以一大早我的兄弟就出发了。说来奇怪，那天是宾戈一生中唯一一次例外，他没跟马车去，只是目送着马队，一动不动。突然，他仰面朝天，一声忧郁的长号划破了天际，他望着马车渐行渐远，直至消失在视野中，他还尾随马队跑了大约100码远，不时地发出最悲惨、凄凉的号叫。那天，他一直都待在谷仓周围，这是他唯——次主动自愿与马队分离，每隔一会儿就像哭丧似的号叫一声。我一个人静静地待着，狗的行为让我预感到大祸即将临头，并且时间过得越久，这种预感就越压得我透不过气来。大约6点钟时，宾戈的号叫变得更加令人难以忍受，我不假思索，随手抓起一样东西朝他扔去，并命令他走开。但是，天啊，心中的那种恐惧感却怎么也摆脱不了！我怎么能让我的兄弟一个人去了呢？他还能活着回来吗？我本可以从狗的行为中察觉到有可怕、不幸的事情发生的。终于熬到了我的兄弟约翰该回来的时候了，他驾着马车回来，我接管过马群，大大舒了一口气。我装着漫不经心的样子问：“一切都顺利吧？”“还好。”他回答。现在没人敢断定前兆一点儿意义都没有。很长一段时间后，我把这件事告诉了一位精通神秘学的人，他神情严肃地对我说：“宾戈总会在你危难之时帮助你吗？”“是的。”“那就不要笑了。那天是你有危险，他留下来救了你，尽管你永远都不会知道他把你从什么样的危险中解救出来的。”

The rest of that winter in 1882 Bingo spent in our shanty，living the life of a lubberly，fat，well-meaning，ill-doing puppy；gorging himself with food and growing bigger and clumsier each day. Even sad experience failed to teach him that he must keep his nose out of the rat trap. His most friendly overtures to the cat were wholly misunderstood and resulted only in an armed neutrality that，varied by occasional reigns of terror，continued to the end；which came when Bingo，who early showed a mind of his own，got a notion for sleeping at the barn and avoiding the shanty altogether.

When the spring came I set about his serious education. After much pains on my behalf and many pains on his，he learned to go at the word in quest of our old yellow cow，that pastured at will on the unfenced prairie.

Once he had learned his business，he became very fond of it and nothing pleased him more than an order to go and fetch the cow. Away he would dash，barking with pleasure and leaping high in the air that he might better scan the plain for his victim. In a short time he would return driving her at full gallop before him，and gave her no peace until，puffing and blowing，she was safely driven into the farthest corner of her stable.

Less energy on his part would have been more satisfactory，but we bore with him until he grew so fond of this semi-daily hunt that he began to bring“old Dunne”without being told. And at length not once or twice but a dozen times a day this energetic cowherd would sally forth on his own responsibility and drive the cow home to the stable.

At last things came to such a pass that whenever he felt like taking a littleexercise，or had a few minutes of spare time，or even happened to think of it，Bingo would sally forth at racing speed over the plain and a few minutes later return，driving the unhappy yellow cow at full gallop before him.

At first this did not seem very bad，as it kept the cow from straying too far；but soon it was seen that it hindered her feeding. She became thin and gave less milk；it seemed to weigh on her mind too，as she was always watching nervously for that hateful dog，and in the mornings would hang around the stable as though afraid to venture off and subject herself at once to an onset.

This was going too far. All attempts to make Bingo more moderate in his pleasure were failures，so he was compelled to give it up altogether. After this，though he dared not bring her home，he continued to show his interest by lying at her stable door while she was being milked.

As the summer came on the mosquitoes became a dreadful plague，and the consequent vicious switching of Dunne's tail at milking-time was even more annoying than the mosquitoes.

Fred，the brother who did the milking，was of an inventive as well as an impatient turn of mind，and he devised a simple plan to stop the switching. He fastened a brick to the cow's tail，then set blithely about his work assured of unusual comfort while the rest of us looked on in doubt.

Suddenly through the mist of mosquitoes came a dull whack and an outburst of“language”. The cow went on placidly chewing till Fred got on his feet and furiously attacked her with the milking-stool. It was bad enough to be whacked on the ear with a brick by a stupid old cow，but the uproarious enjoyment andridicule of the bystanders made it unendurable.

Bingo，hearing the uproar，and divining that he was needed，rushed in and attacked Dunne on the other side. Before the affair quieted down the milk was spilt，the pail and stool were broken，and the cow and the dog severely beaten.

Poor Bingo could not understand it at all. He had long ago learned to despise that cow，and now in utter disgust he decided to forsake even her stable door，and from that time he attached himself exclusively to the horses and their stable.

The cattle were mine，the horses were my brother's，and in transferring his allegiance from the cow-stable to the horse-stable Bingo seemed to give me up too，and anything like daily companionship ceased，and yet，whenever any emergency arose Bingo turned to me and I to him，and both seemed to feel that the bond between man and dog is one that lasts as long as life.

Bingo's loyalty to the horses was quite remarkable；by day he trotted beside them，and by night he slept at the stable door. Where the team went Bingo went，and nothing kept him away from them. This interesting assumption of ownership lent the greater significance to the following circumstance.

I was not superstitious，and up to this time had had no faith in omens，but was now deeply impressed by a strange occurrence in which Bingo took a leading part. There were but two of us now living on the De Winton Farm. One morning my brother set out for Boggy Creek for a load of hay. It was a long day's journey there and back，and he made an early start. Strange to tell，Bingo for once in his life did not follow the team. My brother called to him，but still he stood at a safe distance，and eying the team askance，refused to stir. Suddenly he raised his nosein the air and gave vent to a long，melancholy howl. He watched the wagon out of sight，and even followed for a hundred yards or so，raising his voice from time to time in the most doleful howlings. All that day he stayed about the barn，the only time that he was willingly separated from the horses，and at intervals howled a very death dirge. I was alone，and the dog's behavior inspired me with an awful foreboding of calamity，that weighed upon me more and more as the hours passed away.

About six o'clock Bingo's howlings became unbearable，so that for lack of a better thought I threw something at him，and ordered him away. But oh，the feeling of horror that filled me！Why did I let my brother go away alone？ Should I ever again see him alive？ I might have known from the dog's actions that something dreadful was about to happen.

At length the hour for his return arrived，and there was John on his load. I took charge of the horses，vastly relieved，and with an air of assumed unconcern，asked，“All right？”

“Right，”was the laconic answer.

Who now can say that there is nothing in omens.

And yet when，long afterward，I told this to one skilled in the occult，he looked grave，and said，“Bingo always turned to you in a crisis？”

“Yes.”

“Then do not smile. It was you that were in danger that day；he stayed and saved your life，though you never knew from what.”

老农夫的卡车 That Old Black Dog

Once upon a time in my life，way up on this great big hill there lived this really old farmer. That old man didn't have any cows，horses，pigs or chickens，in fact，that old famer didn't even have an old farm wife to help take care of him. Everyone around town knew that this old guy was a very mean person. He was so mean that he could hardly wait for the rain to stop so he could run outside and chase all the birds away who were coming out to sing and eat grain on his farm. That is just how mean this old farmer really was.

“Ain't gonna shoot you right here because it's too big a mess，”said the farmer，as he lowered his shot gun. Then he reached down and grabbed the scared old female dog by the back of the neck and drug her on her side all the way over to his pick-up truck. The old dog was just a-crying and a-whining the whole time. But that did not matter to that mean old farmer. He just took the old black dog and flung her，as hard as he could，into the back of his old run down pick-up. Then hit her in the rump a couple of times with the butt of his shot gun until she laid down. Then he jumped in the truck and headed as fast as he could down the long winding dirt road，towards the woods.

Faster and faster the old farmer drove，just a talking and cursing out loud the entire time. That beat up old truck was a-slipping and a-sliding all over the wet dirt road. First sliding this a-way and then sliding that a-way. Then all of a sudden the truck slid sideways and ran completely off the dirt road，hit the ditch and began rolling over and over. There were bushs，leaves，dirt and all kinds of stuff being flung everywhere. Finally everything became very still and quiet，except for the crackle of a small fire that was coming out from underneath the old pick-up truck.

“Please，somebody help me！”yelled the old farmer. But there was nobody to help him，not even that old black dog who had now ran away in order to saveherself.

Once again，the old man was all alone，just like he had been for the past thirty years on his farm. The fire was getting hotter and hotter and closer and closer. The old man finally laid his head back down into the dirt，softly cursing，crying to himself and trying to fling a little dirt with his fingers onto the fire. His hands were burnt and dirty and his overalls were singed and smoking. Finally he just gave up，gave one last cough and slowly lowered his face into the dirt and ash.

All of a sudden he heard voices coming from the road behind him. Very slowly he raised his blackened face and looked back towards the road，as best he could being up side down. Here came that old black dog hobbling as fast as she could towards him. Behind that dog were five or six people running towards the burning truck.

I really do not know much about what happened after that because I moved away several days later because my small clothing store in Brunswick，Georgia，had been broken into so many times that I had to shut it down. But as I was in the Hazlehurst area，where my distributor was located and after being gone for three years，I decided to stop at the local diner for a cup of coffee. As I sat there quietly，looking out the window，I noticed this burnt old black pick-up truck with it's side caved in sitting across the street at the local feed store. Two young boys were loading bales of hay into the back. I looked down the long wooden loading ramp to where there were three or four old weather beaten rocking chairs and to my surprise I saw this one legged，laughing old farmer man，his crutches leaning against the wall，hugging this three legged，one eared，dirty old black dog who was licking him in the face，as though she liked him！

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