By degrees he became more friendly and genial, so that at the end of an hour he was thoroughly one of us.
I have never seen a milder-eyed dog than Little Wanderobo.

Innocence and guilelessness struggled for supremacy, with "confidence in strangers" a close third.

You couldn't help liking him, for with those meek and gentle eyes, together with manners above reproach, he simply walked into your heart and made himself at home.
I think that we were a good deal of a surprise to him.

In all his short young life he had probably never known anything but kicks and cuffs.
When he met a stranger he naturally expected to have something thrown at him, or to have a stubby toe or hard sandal projected into his side.
Imagine his wonderment to find people who actually petted him and played with him.

At first he didn't know how to play, but it was amazing to see how fast he learned.