The spots on Dalmatians begin to come through after two weeks. But the time Perdita’s family were six weeks old it was obvious that they were going to be beautifully marked and very valuable Perdita heard the farmer say so to a stranger who came to the farm one morning. She was still helping to feed them; they would eat all the farmer offered and then come to her for milk. Then she and they would all have a happy sleep in the old box she had been given for a bed.

One afternoon she woke to find not one puppy in bed with her. She searched the farmhouse, she searched the farmyard. No puppies anywhere. She ran onto the road, fearing they might have been run over. On and on she went, pausing every few minutes to bark. No answering puppy-bark came to her. Soon it began to rain. She thought of the puppies all getting wet, and barked more and more desperately. A car nearly ran over her; she saved herself only by jumping into a muddy ditch, where the mud even got into her eyes and ears. By the time she reached the common where she had met her husband, she was shivering and weak on her legs. The thought of her lost husband added to her misery at the loss of the puppies. She had eaten nothing since the previous afternoon the farmer gave her only one meal a day. At last, faint with hunger and utterly broken-spirited, she collapsed. And there, not long after, Mrs. Dearly found her.

That was Perdita’s whole story; except that she never told Pongo that the farmer had named her Spotty because she liked Perdita so much better.

Pongo sympathized with all his heart and did his best to comfort her. He said he did not think the puppies were lost. It was more likely that they had been sold perhaps to the stranger who came to see them. And this might be the best thing that could have happened to them for if they were valuable, they were sure to be well taken care of. There would never have been enough food at the farm for them when they got really big. Perdita knew all this was true. And the two tiny puppies in the basket with her were wonderfully comforting so were the kind things Pongo said about being grateful to her for feeding them. Soon she felt much happier and slid into a warm, well-fed sleep.

Pongo lay awake for a long time, wishing Missis and all the puppies could be with him in the firelit kitchen. He strolled over and looked at the two puppies asleep with Perdita, and felt proud and protective and extremely sorry for Perdita. Really, she was a very pretty girt if not a patch on his Missis.