ANECDOTES OF DOG WIT AND WISDOM
What could we do without the dog? There are many other animals made use of by man, but the dog, his faithful friend and companion, stands first of all. It not only aids him in his sports, but clings to him in all the affairs of life, and has been known to lie down and die on its master's grave, not willing to leave him even after death.
Not only faithful and loving is the dog, not only fond of play and sport, but it has a very good brain of its own and is one of the smartest of all the animals. If it could only talk we would find that a great deal goes on inside its little thinking organ. How wisely it will at times look up in our faces, as if to say, "If I could only speak I could tell you many things worth listening to."
But can dogs think? some of you ask. I am sure that most of you who keep dogs could answer this question for yourselves. Certainly dogs very often do things that look much like thinking. There are hundreds of anecdotes telling us of wise things done by dogs and I propose to tell you some of these. I think you will find that they answer your question. I am sure that most of you could tell me of some clever dog doings. Here are some that seem worth telling.
A farmer friend of mine long ago told me of some curious things done by a dog of his. He had a bell hung on a post in his yard, with a rope coming down from it. He would ring it in the early morning to rouse up the farm hands for their day's work. One morning he was surprised to hear the bell ring very early, but no one could tell him who had rung it.
The next morning it rang again. He sprang from bed and looked out the window to find that his dog was the culprit. It had the rope in its teeth and was pulling away like an able bell-ringer. The little chap was lonely and wanted company; he had often seen the men troop out on the ringing of the bell; so he put two and two together and rang the bell himself. The farmer had to hang up the rope out of reach to put an end to this doggish trick.
The same dog had a great fancy for riding in a carriage of his own, and when one of the men drove up to the door with his cart, and left the horse standing while he went into the house for orders, doggy would bark and bite at the horse's shins until he set him in motion, and then would jump into the cart for a free ride. He was "only a dog," but he knew how to get what he wanted, and he looked proud enough as he stood with his feet on the front of the cart, as if he owned all the world he could see.
Another friend tells me that, when a country boy, he had to go a mile or two every morning to the post office for letters and papers, his dog keeping him company. On one morning there was nothing for him and he started back empty handed. But the dog refused to follow. It seated itself on the post-office steps and would not budge. He tried in various ways to make it come, but in spite of all he could do back it would go to those steps and seat itself as before.
The boy was at his wits' end. At last the thought came to him of what ailed the obstinate brute. He took a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up and at once the dog came running up, frisking about him gladly. If it could have spoken it would have said something like this: "You and I were sent to bring the papers. If you choose to go home without them I do not. I know my duty better than that."
Hounds Overtaking a Fox
The story has often been told that dogs which have been in the habit of eagerly following their masters on their week-day walks, will not stir on Sundays. They seem to know from past experience that they are not welcome on that day. Do these creatures count the days of the week and know in that way when Sunday comes? Or is there something in the dress of the family, the sound of church-bells in the air, or other indications to tell them that this is a day set aside from doggish sports and duties?
All I can say in the matter is that a village friend of mine, whose church was too far away for the bells to be heard, had a dog of this kind, that ran friskily up to go out with him every morning but Sunday, when it would not stir from its rug. To test the animal he on several occasions came downstairs in his week-day clothes and went about in his week-day manner. But the wise creature was not to be fooled. It looked at him lazily and lay still, its looks seeming to say, "I can count as well as you and I know this is Sunday. You can't fool me with your old clothes."
You may see that I am not going abroad for my stories. These are not anecdotes taken from books, but little matters told me by friends. The book stories, no doubt, are better, but these are fresher. Here are one or two that I have heard of a different kind, tales which go to show the faithfulness of the watch-dog.
One of these is of a gentleman who went out one day, leaving his dog locked in the house. On his return in the evening he found that he had forgotten his key and could not get into the house by the front door. He tried the other doors and windows and at last found an open window into which he tried to climb. But so savage a bark came from the care-keeper inside that he backed out again in a hurry.
"Don't you know me, Carlo?" he said, in a coaxing tone.
Carlo knew him well enough and came with wagging tail to the window to be caressed by its master's hand. But the instant he tried again to climb in the animal's attitude changed and it became the fierce watch-dog again.
Try as he would, Carlo simply would not let him come into the house in that way. It was the burglar's route, and even if this man were his master he had no right to take it. In the end the baffled gentleman had to give up the attempt and leave Carlo lord of the premises. The faithful watch-dog knew not master or man when it came to a question of duty.
Now let me speak of a dog that had a different sense of duty. It belonged to a cousin of mine and when left in charge of the house in the absence of its mistress was quite willing to let visitors enter and seemed very glad to see them. The trouble began when they tried to go out. This the dog would not permit. It was ready to attack them with teeth and claws if they tried it. "Here you are and here you stay till my mistress comes home," its attitude seemed to say. "Your coming may be all right, but that is for the lady of the house to decide, and you shall not go a step until she returns."
Dogs cannot talk, that we all know very well. It is true that there is at present a dog in Germany which has been taught to speak a number of words, in a way that makes it easy to understand them. But no one fancies that even this dog will ever become a good and ready talker. Yet it is well known that dogs can understand human speech and sometimes very well.
The Dog Guardian. "Can You Talk?"
Thus a friend of mine comes home at night, after a day's hard work, flings himself lazily on the sofa, and says to a visitor: "If Jim there knew enough I would ask him to go upstairs for my slippers."
Jim, the dog, who has been lying in easy content on his favorite spot, at once gets up, stretches himself, and trots off up stairs, coming back in a few minutes with a slipper in his mouth. Off he trots again and comes back with the other, then lies down once more with an air of satisfaction. This is an actual incident. Very likely the word "slippers," joined with his own name, was the key-note to the dog's action. The two words were enough to tell him what was wanted.
Dozens of incidents of this kind might be given. Here is a good one that has so often been told that many of you may have read it. A sheep-dog in a Highland cottage was lying one day before the fire while his master, a shepherd, was talking with a neighbor. He wished to show his friend how quick-witted a dog he had, and while talking about a different matter, said in a quiet tone, "I'm thinking, sir, the cow's got into the potatoes."
The dog, which had seemed asleep, at once jumped up, leaped through the open window and scrambled to the cottage roof. Here it could see the potato field. As no cow was there, the dog ran to the farm-yard, where it found the animal it sought. It then came back to the house, and quietly lay down again.
Some time later the shepherd said the same words and the dog sprang up and went out again. But when the words were repeated a third time the wise creature came up to its master with wagging tail, and looked into his face with so comical an expression that the talkers broke out into a loud laugh. Then with a slight growl, the dog laid down again on the hearth rug with an offended air, as if saying to itself, "You shall not make a fool of me again."
A Dog Team Hauling Milk in Antwerp
This is one of the stock stories of dog wit. Many others like it might be told. There is no doubt that dogs have ways of making their dog friends know things they would like to have done. Many stories could be given to prove this, but most of them are too long to be told here. Thus we are told of dogs that have got the worst of it in a fight seeking a stronger friend, telling their story in their own way, and the two going out together to whip the whipper.
Dogs have their feelings, too, and can easily be insulted. "Low life" dogs are so used to being cuffed and kicked that a kick does not hurt their feelings, though it may their flesh. But "high life" dogs are apt to be very delicate in their feelings, and the mere touch of a whip hurts their pride deeply. Here is a story of a Skye terrier that went out every day for a walk in the park with its master's brother. One day when it hung back to amuse itself with another dog the gentleman, to induce it to follow, struck it with his glove.
The terrier looked up with an air of anger and dignity, turned round and trotted off home. The next day it went out again, but after a short walk it looked up into the man's face, turned on its heels, and trotted back once more with an air of great dignity. Having thus made its protest, it would never go out with him again.
Here is another case, having to do this time with unjust treatment instead of offended pride. Arago, the famous French scientist, was once detained by a storm at a country inn, and stood warming himself by the kitchen fire while the innkeeper roasted a fowl for his dinner.
Having put the fowl on the spit over the fire, the innkeeper tried to catch a turnspit dog lying in the kitchen and put him in the wheel by which the spit was turned. But the dog would not enter the spit, got under a table, and showed fight. When Arago asked what made it act that way, the host said that the dog was right, it was not its turn but that of its companion, then out of the room. The other turnspit was sent for, entered the wheel at once and turned away willingly. When the fowl was half done Arago took this dog out and the other dog now readily took his turn. He had fought for right and justice and had won.
We must stop here. The stories told about the intelligence of dogs are so many and of such different kinds that they would more than fill this book if all were told. We have picked out a few of some kinds. There are other kinds. Thus dogs do not like to be laughed at. They have also some sense of humor and will try to play tricks on their masters. They have a sense of shame and will slink away when caught at some act of which they should be ashamed. And there are thieves among them that will steal in a very skilful manner. Thus sheep-killing dogs are very cunning at hiding the evidence of their nightly raids in the sheep-field.
I cannot leave the dog without quoting Senator Vest's fine words of praise of this noble animal. They may be viewed as a classic tribute to the dog. They were spoken in a law-suit in which the Senator was acting for a party whose dog had been killed. It was "only a dog," said the other lawyer. Here is what Senator Vest said to the jury:
"Gentlemen of the Jury: The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him. His son and daughter whom he has reared with loving care may become ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their trust. The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him when he may need it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees and do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend a man may have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is the dog."
Deerhound, Rossie Ralph
"A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground when winter winds blow and snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains; when riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast into the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies. And, when the last scene of all comes and death takes his master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground; no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even unto death."
The claim for the loss of the dog had been $200, but when the jury heard this just and masterly tribute to the dog they gave a verdict of $500. Well they knew that every word of it was true.