The phonograph meant nothing to her.

She knew only fear--fear of this terrible white man that she was certain was destined to eat her.
Jerry left the caressing hand of Skipper for a moment to go over and sniff her.

This was an act of duty.

He was identifying her once again.
No matter what happened, no matter what months or years might elapse, he would know her again and for ever know her again.

He returned to the free hand of Skipper that resumed its caressing.