By Kent Coit
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Additional info for A PRIVATE LETTER
Dingley was too strong for him. The 47 man lifted him and carried him back to the bathroom, where he dropped him, still struggling, into the tub. This time Ribsy knew he was trapped. He knew he could not scramble out of the slippery tub when he was hemmed in by all these people. He simply stood, dripping and drooping, and waited for whatever was to come next. The more they rubbed, the more Ribsy foamed. “I’m sorry, old boy,” said Mr. Dingley. ” At the sound of the sympathetic voice, Ribsy turned a sad face to Mr.
He rolled and rubbed and wriggled on his back with his four feet in the air, but nothing helped. The smell clung no matter what he did. Panting, exhausted, and hungry, Ribsy lay in the ditch and wondered what to do next.
It did not hurt. When he tried to bite it, all he got was an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “Get some hamburger,” ordered Mr. Dingley. ” Mrs. Dingley left the room and returned with a lamb chop, which she handed to her husband. “We’re out of hamburger,” she explained. ” Mr. Dingley held the chop out to Ribsy. “Nice doggie,” he coaxed. ” Ribsy did not care for the lamb chop. In all the excitement he had lost his appetite. Besides, he was cold. “Look, he’s shivering,” reported Louanne. 46 “We’ll have to move the bed,” said her father.