Haney's Art of Training Animals / A Practical Guide for Amateur or Professional Trainers. Giving Full Instructions for Breaking, Taming and Teaching All Kinds of Animals Including an Improved Method of Horse Breaking, Management of Farm Animals, Training of Sporting Dogs; Serpent Charming, Care and Tuition of Talking, Singing and Performing Birds; and Detailed Instructions for Teaching All Circus Tricks, and Many Other Wonderful Feats.

by W. H. Burroughs

TO “SING.”

When a dog howls in time, we think it fair to call his performance “singing.” Dogs may be taught to do this; at least they have been, and it is reasonable to presume it may be done again. In only one case of this kind do we know positively the mode of tuition, but it was probably pretty much the same in all cases. This consisted in keeping the dog without food until his appetite was quite sharp. When food was shown him, he naturally whined for it. Now, a dog may be made to whine, howl, or bark, if you make any of those noises yourself; almost any dog will imitate you, and not only that, but the pitch and style of noise he makes will be somewhat regulated by that made by you. The hungry dog is in prime mental condition for this exercise, and if rewarded when he hits pretty near upon the right degree of noise, he will learn to follow your tones quite accurately. If exercised in a regular scale, or in a simple tune, he will by-and-by go through it without requiring your prompting, with sufficient accuracy to be recognized—if the hearers know beforehand what melody to expect.

It is not pretended, of course, that dogs trained as above described, do anything but repeat a series of noises mechanically in a prescribed rotation. We find recorded, however, one instance of a dog learning to discriminate between the different notes, and to detect false ones in a musical performance. The story seems improbable, but may be true; however, it is worth telling:

“Frederick Schwartz, a merchant retired from business in Darmstadt, occupied his leisure hours, which were many, almost exclusively with music. His passion for the art acquired such an intensity that he required every one about him to fall in with his musical predilections by either vocal or instrumental coöperation. Poodle, the dog, was the only one unable to render any musical assistance. As worthy Herr Schwartz felt the utter impossibility of making Poodle afford any practical aid, he determined to train him to fill the office of critic in his own harmonious community. He succeeded, too, by an ingenious method. Whenever a note out of tune proceeded from a voice or an instrument; every time that a musical fault was committed by any member of the family—and such faults were committed purposely—the rod was applied to Poodle’s back, and he naturally began to bark and howl. He was exactly in the position of the whipping boy, who pursued his studies with the royal prince. Whenever the prince made a grammatical blunder, the whipping boy had to smart for it. Before long, simple threats were substituted for smitings of his (Poodle’s) back; afterward a look sufficed to set the creature barking; and little by little Poodle familiarized himself with wrong notes and other musical atrocities, until at last a mistake could not be committed without his rebuking it either by a bark or a growl. He thus became, as far as music was concerned, the most impartial judge, the most conscientious critic in the whole grand duchy of Hesse Darmstadt.

“Unfortunately, his appreciation of musical art was completely and solely negative. He bestowed no praise, but only blame. Sing with expression, perform with talent, the dog would remain impassive and cold; but at the slightest incorrectness of intonation he ground his teeth, lashed his tail, growled, yelped, and barked aloud. So long as he flourished—and he may flourish still—not a concert or an opera was rehearsed in Darmstadt without inviting Herr Frederick Schwartz and his dog—but more especially the dog. If the prima donna made the slightest slip, the dog looked at his master with an air of disapprobation. If the hautboys came in too late, Poodle pricked up his ears; if the clarionet hurried the movement, Poodle fidgeted on his bench; if the kettle-drummer broke the time, Poodle uttered audible murmurs. In fact, no piece was considered properly executed unless the canine connoisseur remained quiet on his seat.

“Nor must it be supposed that Poodle’s instinct was limited to forming a judgment of the execution only. His intelligence, trained by hearing classical works, seemed to have penetrated some of the secrets of composition. An abrupt modulation, a false resolution, would produce symptoms of doubt on Poodle’s muzzle; consecutive fifths made him shudder, and a halting melody set his teeth on edge. Sometimes Herr Schwartz and his intimate friends, in the privacy of a snug little quartette party, would amuse themselves by producing discordant sounds, for the sake of tormenting the sensitive animal. On such occasions Poodle lost all self-command: his hair stood on end, his eyes became bloodshot, and frightful howlings answered to the discord produced by the fiddles of the mystificators. Moreover, they were obliged to keep within certain bounds. Poodle possessed only a limited stock of forbearance. If the cacophony was too intense or too prolonged, Poodle, carrying out his sense of duty, upset everything. Music-stands, music-stools, and instruments, were strewed in confusion about the room.”