Barbos, the faithful yard-dog who serves his master zealously, happens to see his old acquaintance Joujou, the curly lapdog, seated at the window on a soft down cushion. Sidling fondly up to her, like a child to a parent, he all but weeps with emotion; and there under the window, he whines, wags his tail, and bounds about. "What sort of life do you lead now, Joujoutka, ever since the master took you into his mansion? You remember, no doubt, how often we used to suffer hunger out in the yard. What is your present service like?" "It would be a sin in me to murmur against my good fortune," answers Joujoutka. "My master cannot make enough of me. I live amidst riches and plenty, and I eat and drink off silver. I frolic with the master, and, if I get tired, I take my ease on carpets or on a soft couch. And how do you get on?" "I?" replies Barbos, letting his tail dangle like a whip, and hanging his head. "I live as I used to do. I suffer from cold and hunger; and here, while guarding my master's house, I have to sleep at the foot of the wall, and I get drenched in the rain. And if I bark at the wrong time, I am whipped. But how did you Joujou, who were so small and weak, get taken into favor, while I jump out of my skin to no purpose? What is it you do?" "'What is it you do?' A pretty question to ask!" replied Joujou, mockingly. "I walk upon my hind legs."
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