The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-06-13
BILL AND HIS
 CANINE FRIENDS
Story of a Quaint Character Of
 Greenwich Village.
DOCS WITH REAL SENSE
4 Comedy That Ends in Some s..-7 : thing Like Tragedy.
(New York Sum-

lIIIII ukt tIdgsuy, (New York Sum-
 i In a. casual stroll through the mar
 row crooked streets of Greenwich Vil- l the prolonged and agonized bowling of l a dog, and I turned to see Fanny a matronly cur belonging to my friend
 Bill the Rat Catcher, stretching her
 muzzle high in the air. and bowling
 at nothing at all. Her son-Bill had solemnly named him Samuel-a cur of
 the same type-half dachshund and
 largely mongrel, with a long body and
 a yellow. nondescript coat-stood by,
 watching. offered comfort to Fanny
 and coaxed her to follow me, which
 she did. At intervals she stopped and
 gave the long mournful howl which ] had first attracted my attention When she walked behind me in silence with great gravity Gas though we were a | funeral procession, thought) Samuel l brought Up the rear, and I amused 1 myself thinking about my queer friend | Bill. Bill the Rat Catcher of Greenwich Village was the name I had given him. I found him one evening in ] Washington Square, giving trained l animal performance on corner With the aid of a short stick, which he al-
 
 l was talking to Fanny as though she understood him. Both Fanny and
 Samuel he put through all their antics l for me.
 l ..''No. then, Fanny, lie down and roll 1 over for the gentleman"
 l Fanny did
 1 "And, Fanny. would you rather be a dead dog or eat meat on Friday" l Fanny lay down and relaxed. Her preference was clear. Fanny stood l up on her hind legs as steadily as her
 poor old legs and great avoirdupois
 things in perfect response to her mas ter's infections. Then Bill let her off explainina thus:
 You're getting old now, Fanny, and I've promised you after come May day | that you shan't do any more tricks
 And I'm going to be easy on you till Master Samuel was next put through his paces. He jumped to a foothold on top of hydrant and leap ed over Bills stick. He tried to
 stand on his hind legs and succeeded too young and siddy to sit on his haunches for more than a few sec onds. He tried and quickly wrggled down. Bill told Fanny her sons back was weak. Samuel then said his
 prayers kneeling at the curb. It re:
 
 BAl addressed Fanny on the subject. Fanny" he said, 1T wish you would teach your son Samuel CBill always brought out the last syllable) some de- corum. He is very young and giddy." Samuel ran into the street and nar- rowly missed being run over by an automobile.
 See there," said Bill; "even as I speak he runs recklessly into the street and almost loses his life. I predict l that he will die by gasolene." Fanny paid careful attention. Bill saw I was interested. He was
 ready to talk. He always, was. My
 names Bill. Glad to meet you. sir. These are my dogs. That 'un, the mother of this 'un, understands every
 thing I say She is ,,,s. a very fine me, dog: ss: you believe it, sir 2.1s4 rats. I count every one and put a notch on q stick in the engine room. Samuel has caught 12S. Hell do better as he gets older. Her and the young 'un I
 Wonderful xsan assl d dogs. e eA: The boss lets me If I left him I wouldn't have any place to keep my dogs"
 l My acQuaintance with Bill ripened. found that he was devoted to Fanny
 and Samuel, the gfddy young fellow. and scolded the latter quite severely. He told Fanny 1t was necessary that her son should have balance when he Krew up. One day Bill said to me: 1T wish I had a, cellar to keep Fan ny and the young fellow in. a place. for them to sleep. I'd take another job that's been offered me in a stable for wages. I'm an honest fellow. It would be safe to give me the key to a cellar. Folks don't know how hon. est am. I wouldn't steal pin. TO
 be good, and decent is all there is in from Fanny and the young 'Un. I can't take the job. They don't want any CUTS around. Fapny and Samr- els CUTS to most folks. But I can't give: lem up. I don't know what I'd do> if Fanny was to die. She will some time. though, and I'll. be left alone with Samuel It'll be lonesome all right. The young fellow isn't makes me laugh
 I didn't have any cellar to offer Bill, so he stayed on at the engine house. working for the keep of himself and his dogs. The neiShbors and the butchers gave him meat for letting Fanny catch their rats.
 Bill was a little short fellow, mid dle-aged, with wrinkled face, and voice from the half-soliloquies he in- dulged in with Fanny. continued to meet him frequently on the corner of Washington Square, always with his dogs.
 Bill used to go of Sunday into the country for catnip. He'd tell Fanny where he was going and not to howl till he got back. She was lonesome but never howled Samuel frisked about as usual. Bill would come back from his jaunt in the country loaded with catnip and wild flowers. The catnip he would dispense to every cat owner between the subway station at Astor place and the engine room. "Got any catnip, Bill?" was a common sal- utation for the people around to offer him. He frequently had, and those
 who profited by his catnip gave him
 nickels for his fare into the country. When he came back Bill would talk about the wild flowers.
 "It's great out there in the country The sky is different. The birds sing lot. It makes you want to be square and honest. Does me. like it. like daisies best. Buttercups are fine Lilacs are miracles.' Bill was always a surprise for me He was simple, and sometimes almost learned. All the country he knew was within walking distance of the Van Cortlandt street subway station.
 All his education he got at the Coop CT Union. He had never beer to
 school a day in his life. He learned