'Ere!... Evings wasn't always in the dorg trade, but what did it matter, anything that Evings turns his hand to he'll make a do of it.
It ain't by buying or selling dawgs that Evings does so well at neither, it's the 'Orspital under the shop where Evings gets 'is brass.
Five and twenty, thirty dorg's at seven and six a week, it soon mounts up you know, though I've no brains.
They get nothing to eat at Evings... that's Evings big secret!
The other morning Evings was standing at the door of his shop, scaling a bulldorgs teeth, when up drives a carriage and pair and out a lady gets with a little Italian greyhound, which was snarling and snapping something shocking.
Wallop!!!... goes the bulldorg down the flap into the 'orspital.
The lady 'ands her dorg to Evings, "Mind he don't bite!" she says.
"Little dorgs never bite me mum." says Evings.
Well I don't know what it is about Evings, but directly he gets hold of a dorg, the dorg seems to know something and never takes his eyes off Evings. His power over animals is marvellous... well! look what he's done with Mrs Evings.
"What's matter with little feller?" says Evings.
The lady explained as how he used to be able to eat steak, but lately only a very tiny bit of chicken now and again.
"Poor little dear!" says Evings, "what's the little chappie's name then?" "Fido." says the lady.
"Ere, he'll soon be all right with us mum, that's if he ain't gone too far." says Evings.
"Seven and six a week is our usual charge... though, if he's been in the habit of eating chicken…..". Well the lady offered to make it half a sovereign a week and says, "You will be kind to him won't you?"
"Kind to him? Bless you mum." says Evings. "Do you know the hard part of this business, is parting with the little creatures at the end of the week when their times up".
The lady hands Evings two lovely cushions, one for the day and one for the night and after a lot of kissing and cuddling the carriage drives off. Wallop!!!... goes Fido down the flap into the 'orspital, he gets put on a couple of inches of chain and a combin' and a brushin' wot he never forgets and in less than a couple of days he's darting about and catchin' his little bits of tripe that they fling 'round... as quick as any of them.
It was a sight to see them, as Evings goes down with the basket, all their teeth a-glistenin', their little rudders a-goin' like mad. He don't alf fling it at 'em, and they're on it every time, just about 'alf an ounce a piece.
But it's when the ladies call for their dorgs, as you ought to 'ear Evings. When the lady calls for Fido he says, "He's all right now mum... but we've had a very anxious time with the little feller, me and the missus was up the whole of the first night with him. We got a little rest the second night but the missus she stuck to him and with the aid of gentle nursing and his own brave little heart, we pulled him round."
And he goes to the flap and he says, " Bring little Fido up."
As soon as he see's his missus he goes nearly mad, right over her shoulder and out into the street, up on to the coachman's box, down again and back into the shop.
The lady was delighted, "Oh ain't he improved?" the lady said.
"Yes mum," says Evings, "I think you gets him home you'll find as how he'll be able to eat a little bit of chicken now."
The lady hands Evings a sovereign. Of course Evings ain't got no change, but he'll send for some if the lady wished it... but the lady wouldn't hear of such a thing, and said she'd be quite sure to send Mrs Evings a present for her kindness, which Evings said he didn't expect, but he would only too pleased to have, if it was only out of remembrance of little Fido, who'd endeared himself to the hearts of all. Yes and there's many a party wouldn't be nearly so snappish if they had a week at Evings, but he daresn't trust them...
Dawgs can't talk!