"The One" Dog and "The Others": A Study of Canine Character

by Frances E. Slaughter

VIII

“The faithful dog, in life the firmest friend,

The first to welcome, foremost to defend;

Whose honest heart is aye his master’s own,

Who lives, breathes, fights, and dies for him alone.”

THE sense of the ego in the dog is, I think, clearly shown in the feeling of personal responsibility he exhibits. If we had not the feeling of being responsible in our own persons for the carrying out of duties, often far from attractive in themselves, and, it may be, even repulsive to us, should we put aside our inclinations and sensibilities to face the disagreeables such duties entail, if we could merge our personal responsibility in a general sense of the duties of mankind? It is the consciousness of the individual answer, for or against, that we must each make, that forces us to face the inevitable, as we realise it. In the lesser round of the simpler duties that confront the dog, the same recognition of the claims made on his personal response to them is shown, and should be accepted as coming from the same source.

We cannot study the life story of any dog without finding at least some instance of his recognition of duty as duty. Its carrying out may entail personal discomfort, or even danger, but he goes forward without hesitation or craven fear. In the life of Billy, a small wire-haired lady fox-terrier, who answered to this incongruous name, several such actions are to be seen. Billy is the very small daughter of well-bred parents, and belongs to a lady whose home is in Ireland. She was originally the property of a little son of the house, whose young life ended in boyhood. His wee dog was very precious to his young master, and during his last illness showed her response to his affection by spending long hours with the sufferer. One of the last requests the dying boy made was that Billy might be allowed to remain indoors at night for the future, instead of being sent to the stables to sleep. Such a petition was, of course, granted; and when her master’s short life ended, Billy was lifted from the bed and found the most loving guardians in the mother and sister of her former owner.

BILLY

In return for the love lavished on her, Billy is a most vigilant little guardian. In her basket she now spends the night in the kitchen. One Sunday evening on going in to take up her position for the night, Billy found a large kettle on the fire boiling over and sending a stream of water on to the floor. The maids being out, there was no one to appeal to in the kitchen regions, so Billy bustled off to the drawing room to her mistress, and by whining and catching hold of her dress and pulling at it she tried to show that all was not right. While her owner was wondering what she meant Billy grew more importunate. Seizing the lady’s skirt between her teeth she did her best to pull her mistress up; and then, rushing to the door, she paused and looked round to see if she were being followed. Then her mistress rose and went to see what was the matter. When she reached the kitchen the reason of Billy’s call was clear; and the dog, having done her duty, jumped into her basket and curled herself up for the night.

Another time Billy rushed into her mistress’s room with such signs of frantic eagerness to be followed that her appeal was responded to immediately. Leading the way into one of the rooms, Billy flew to the hearthrug, where a live coal had fallen from the fire. A large hole was already burnt in the rug, and the carpet was smouldering in most dangerous fashion. Without Billy’s summons the consequences must have been serious, for flames were on the point of breaking out.

Yet again Billy came to the rescue; and though on this occasion possible jealousy of the cat concerned in the story may have added to the zest with which she performed her duty, she nevertheless did the obvious and proper thing. Billy was settled for the night, but it was not long before she discovered that a cat had been shut into the larder by mistake, and was making the most of her unwonted opportunities. As usual, she rushed off to bring her mistress to the rescue. As Billy’s vigilance was now acknowledged and valued, she had little trouble in persuading her owner to come down. She led the way to the larder and calmly waited. The cat was discovered busy with a plump chicken; and who shall say what feeling of satisfaction came to Billy’s soul, while she watched the ignominious flight of the startled thief, to sweeten the sense of a duty successfully carried out?

Not many dogs, even of Billy’s unusual beauty, have had such striking testimony paid to their good looks. Billy was in the charge, for the time being, of her young mistress, when an American gentleman was so struck by the dog’s appearance that, with many apologies to her guardian for his intrusion, he ventured to ask if she could be persuaded to part with her pet. He would be delighted to give a cheque for £20 in exchange for the dog. The offer was politely refused, and the would-be purchaser then offered a blank cheque, to be filled in by the owner for any sum she pleased, if she would let him have Billy. Touched by the genuine admiration shown for the dog, it was then explained to the enthusiastic American that there were tender memories of a dead brother, to whom Billy had once belonged, that made it impossible to consider the noble offer made for the favourite’s transfer.

A very strong sense of duty was shown by Floss, the little terrier of eventful history, of whom I have spoken several times. She delighted in a day’s shooting, but looked upon it as her business to mount guard over anything in the shape of dead game. One day she was tested severely. A hare was killed early in the proceedings, and as the guns were going a long way to the next beat, the hare was hung on a tree and left. Not long after Floss was missed, and no one could remember where she had last been seen. Thinking, however, that she had probably run a rabbit to ground and would follow, the guns went on. At the end of the day a beater was told off to fetch the hare. When he reached the tree there was a little white form keeping guard over the trophy overhead. But Floss did not know the beater, and warned him sharply off her preserves. The man tried persuasion, caresses, and threats in turn, but to no avail. Floss was ready to use all her powers in the defence of her friends’ property, and the man went back to tell the tale of his failure. Then one of Floss’s friends went to find her and the missing hare. As soon as she saw him Floss ran to meet the new-comer with every mark of pleasure. She watched him take down the hare, and then trotted home contentedly by his side. Not even the sound of the firing that told her she was losing so much of the day’s fun had been able to tempt Floss from the path of duty.

A curious sense of the cares of guardianship Floss showed in regard to the many masks and brushes that adorn the walls of her mistress’s room. Every night before she curled herself up to sleep, she was observed to sit upright and look round the walls. If one of the usual trophies had been removed from its place, she would jump up and proceed on a tour of inspection through the house to find it. As soon as she discovered it, she barked again and again till some one arrived to see what was wanted. Then she waited till her treasure was restored to its usual place, and immediately this was done she settled herself down for the night. A visitor to the house, who was much struck with Floss’s careful guard, used to go into the room at night and pretend to touch some of the furry treasures on the walls. Floss would be up and on the alert in a moment. Flying at the rash intruder, she showed herself ready to defend her mistress’s property till the pretended examination came to an end.

The strongest personal note of another fox-terrier’s character was an indomitable will power. What he wanted he would have, if any efforts of his could secure it. A more independent, self-sufficing little person it would be hard to find. Even as a tiny puppy, before he had left his mother, he took the ordering of his young life in his own hands. His future mistress, accompanied by her brother, went to see the litter, of which Tyke was one, in order to choose a puppy for herself. When the strangers came up to the family group, the young things took no notice of them, with the exception of Tyke, who sat up and barked lustily. One of the visitors was so taken with the hostile demonstration of the tiny creature that he exclaimed to his sister, “That’s the little beggar for you.” To this the lady agreed, and in due time the terrier passed into her possession.

Now Tyke was not perfect from the point of view of beauty. He was spindly in form, and had a tail that curled in reprehensible fashion. Over one eye Tyke had a black patch that was the only touch of colour on his smooth white coat. He soon made his presence felt in his new home, and whenever he did not get what he wanted without delay, he would sit down and, putting his head in the air, give a succession of piercing howls. The noise he made was such that for the sake of peace some one was sure to hurry up to see what was wanted. Whether it was a door that needed to be opened, or whatever at the moment might disturb the comfort of the puppy, he thus took his own means of ensuring its removal.

From the first he was attached to his mistress, though he gave her brother an almost equal place in his affections. To go out for a day’s rabbit shooting with the latter was one of his greatest joys. While he was engaged in his favourite sport, Tyke got a nasty blow on one of his fore legs. He was so severely hurt and the wounded leg had swollen so much, that there was no thought of taking him for the next day’s shooting. Tyke, as an invalid, was being taken care of in his mistress’s room. But no sooner did he hear the usual preparations for a day among the rabbits being made, than he pushed open the door of the upstairs room, and tore down to the hall in impetuous fashion, as best he could on three legs. But Tyke’s enthusiasm cost him dear. As he turned a corner in the staircase in a headlong rush, he missed his footing and rolled down to the bottom of the last flight of steps. On the way he snapped the bone of the injured leg about halfway up.

Tyke’s mistress, who was in the hall at the moment, picked him up, and her brother, seeing what had happened, put down his gun and rushed out to the stables to get a horse put into the dog-cart, to carry Tyke off to have his leg set. In his mistress’s arms the dog was taken by his two friends to the family doctor, who lived about four miles off. They were sure that the latter would attend to their favourite for them. In this they were not mistaken. They fortunately found the Doctor at home, and enlisted his sympathy on behalf of the little sufferer. His mistress suggested that Tyke should have chloroform, so while the medical man busied himself in getting ready a bandage, he handed the chloroform and some cotton wool to his amateur assistants. But Tyke seemed insensible to the effects of the anæsthetic, and grew so excited over the attempts to make him take it that the idea was at last abandoned. Tyke’s self-control was equal to the demands made on it, and he remained perfectly quiet throughout the operation, gently licking his mistress’s hand, as a sign of comprehension and of gratitude for the efforts made in his behalf.

During the time that Tyke was an invalid, he came in for a carriage accident of a somewhat sensational kind. He was so unhappy at being left at home when his friends were out of the house that his mistress generally carried the little thing with her wherever she went, comfortably tucked under her arm. One morning, when a friend had to be driven to the station, the horse, whose business it was to do this work not being available, an old chestnut hunter named Bessie was pressed into the service. The wagonette was to be used and the man was to drive, so the two ladies and Tyke took their places in the back part. The mare did not take kindly to her new duties, but after a good deal of fidgeting about at the start, drew the party safely to the station.

On the return journey, Bessie was startled by a dealer’s cart that came rattling up behind her at a great pace. Laying back her ears she started off at a mad gallop, and the coachman, in his efforts to get a hold on her, pulled one rein harder than the other. Bessie’s head being thus turned towards a fence, she made straight for it. Being a capital jumper—as indeed her owner’s hunters were required to be—she landed well on the top of a broad bank. But here she was reminded of the unwonted encumbrance that hampered her movements. The two front wheels of the carriage she had carried on to the bank, but the rest of the conveyance remained hopelessly behind. After struggling vainly for a few seconds to keep her footing, Bessie rolled back into the ditch, where carriage, horse, and man were mixed up in hopeless confusion. Tyke and his mistress fortunately had made their escape, for the latter, with the dog in her arms, had, while the mare was striving to balance herself on the bank, taken a flying leap over the closed door into the road, where she landed happily on her feet. Looking round for assistance, she saw that the cart, that had been the cause of the mischief, had followed, and the driver was contemplating the scene of confusion in the ditch. Catching hold of his horse by the head, the lady told the man to go to the assistance of her coachman. At last, hatless, and with his coat nearly torn from his back, but, to his mistress’s great relief, without serious injuries, the coachman was extricated from the débris. Then more people arrived on the scene, and the poor mare was got up. She, too, had, in a marvellous way, escaped further injury than some cuts about the head, but the carriage looked like a huge spilt box of matches.

It was not long before the bone of Tyke’s leg joined, and when the last bandage was taken off it was seen that the injured leg was as straight as the other. His love for a day’s shooting was as keen as ever, and his attachment to his owner’s brother was so marked that the former was always afraid her dog would be carried off by him. When a visit of her brother’s was coming to an end, she determined, therefore, to leave Tyke at home when she drove down to the station on the morning of his departure. The dog was left shut into her bedroom, and the journey to the station passed without incident. But the dog-cart had only just turned homewards when Tyke’s mistress caught sight of a small creature tearing down the hill in front of her and clearly bound for the station. She knew it must be Tyke, so flinging the reins on the horse’s neck she jumped down just in time to catch the fugitive. He was promptly put into the dog-cart and driven home, and for once Tyke’s efforts to get his own way were defeated. A maid servant was, of course, responsible for his release. When she opened the door of the bedroom Tyke slipped past her, and, finding the front door open, he had made straight for the station, covering the three miles in less time than the horse had taken.

To one of the neighbouring country houses, situated some three miles off across the fields, Tyke was a constant visitor. He had often gone over there from his home for a day’s shooting, and this was a performance after Tyke’s own heart. It was not long before he took to making visits there on his own account, for he found the time dull at home on the days when his mistress was hunting. Tyke would consequently make his way over, and then sit down and howl at the front door until he was let in. The gentleman to whom he specially attached himself on his visits was in the habit of having a late breakfast before he started for a day’s shooting. Such an arrangement suited Tyke to perfection. He could see his mistress off on a hunting morning, and still be able to reach the house in time to share in the breakfast and start in good order for the day’s work. This over, Tyke would return home with his temporary companion, and there, curling himself up in front of the fire, he would rest peacefully for some hours till he had slept off his fatigue. As soon as he woke, he considered it time to return home, and announced his wishes in the usual manner. The prolonged and continuous howls that echoed over the house, if he found himself shut in, made his friends glad to clear the way for him. But all were fond of the strange little creature, and one very wet night they determined to keep him with them till the morning. Tyke seemed to acquiesce in the proposed arrangement, and the household retired to bed. But after a time Tyke came to other conclusions, and lifted up his voice in such piercing fashion that at last the butler came down and opened the front door for him. At four o’clock in the morning his mistress was roused from sleep by Tyke’s well-known calls under her window. In the quiet night air the shrill summons was enough to rouse the household, and she therefore got up obediently and let him in. Tyke must have taken an optimistic view of the general complaisance of humans, as he curled himself up in his accustomed place for the remaining hours of the night.

He combated successfully arrangements that were not to his mind when another day’s shooting was in question. His shooting friend was going with a party after pheasants, and Tyke, when he paid one of his usual morning visits, found that after breakfast he was no longer wanted. He was, indeed, handed over to the care of his friend the butler, who, fastening a lead of string to his collar, gave him into the charge of the local postman. The latter was going as far as the village, about a mile from Tyke’s home, and the butler—with memories of Tyke’s past exploits in his mind—declared that he was well able to find his way home from the village. The postman undertook the charge, and trudged off, holding the string carefully. The dog was no trouble to lead, and after a time his guardian paid no more attention to him. Great was his horror, therefore, on arriving at the village where the dog was to be set free, to find only a collar trailing on the ground behind him. Tyke as usual had taken his own means to carry out his wishes, and having adroitly popped his head out of his collar, he returned forthwith to the house from which he had been sent.

“Are they Coming?”
TYKE

The troubles of the postman however did not end here. His was a slow working and a conscientious mind. He was in possession of a dog collar, on which was inscribed the name of the lost dog’s owner. This he understood was felony, and in much perturbation of mind he made his way to the house of one of the church-wardens and told his fears. He gave the collar into the custody of this respectable guardian, and begged him to assure Tyke’s mistress of his innocence in the matter.

It needed very little to make Tyke understand any proposed arrangements for the day, and to take his measures accordingly. At last his friends had to be very careful what they said before him. He was lying one morning asleep before the fire, in the room in which his mistress was sitting, when the latter’s brother came in with a letter in his hand. “I have been asked to shoot at S. to-day,” he observed to his sister. “Will you drive me over?” “Yes,” was the answer, “but Tyke must not go.”

Tyke, who had started up all attention when the visitor entered the room, slipped out instead of resuming his old place, as soon as he found what was going to happen. When the dog-cart came round and his two friends got in there was no sign of him. But when they reached the end of the long drive, across which a public road runs, they caught sight of Tyke’s head peeping out from the bushes on the top of the bank facing them. Directly he saw that he was noticed, and having satisfied himself that his friends were really coming, Tyke scampered off across the fields, paying no heed to the calls that followed him. When his mistress arrived at S., there was a sedate looking little dog sitting by the front door waiting for her.

Tyke’s life was a long and a merry one. It ended peacefully, for one morning it was a little lifeless form that his friends found lying in his basket.

---