The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too

by Alfred Elwes

In all this time, nothing had been heard of the terrible Lupo, and all my inquiries procured no information concerning where he was to be found. I learned that he was not a native of Caneville, although his father once belonged to the city. He was born in a country beyond the great wood, and his mother came from a fierce tribe of wolves, who, although they a little resemble dogs in appearance, and speak a very similar language, are much more ferocious, and seem to look upon the whole canine family as natural enemies.

The opinion began to spread in Caneville that Lupo had at length left the city, and the inhabitants, by degrees, recovered their usual quiet; when, suddenly, the alarm spread more widely than before; as, two nights in succession, some rich dogs were robbed and ill-treated, and one of them was lamed by the ferocity of the chief of the terrible band who had attacked them, and whose description convinced me it was Lupo.

These accounts caused me much pain, as I had neither been able to prevent the attacks, nor discover the animals who had made them. In my desire to find out and capture the robbers, I could scarcely take food or rest. I managed to sleep a little in the day-time, and at night, dressed in the simplest manner, so as to excite no attention, I wandered quietly from street to street, stopping to listen to the slightest noise, and going in any direction that I heard a murmur. One or two of my dogs generally followed at a distance, ready to assist me if I called for help.

It was a fine night. The moon and stars were brilliant in the sky, and made the blue all the deeper from their own bright rays. I had been already two hours crawling through the lower parts of the city, and was mounting the hill which led to a fine building where my steps often carried me—sometimes without my intending it—in order to watch over the safety of those who slept within. It was the house of Fida—that Fida who had been to me so kind, so tender; that Fida, who so patiently softened down my rudeness, and had tried to teach me to know what was good by letting me become her friend.

I had nearly reached the top of the hill, and paused an instant to observe the bright light and dark shadows which the house displayed, as the moon fell upon it, or some portion of the building interposed. Profound sleep had fallen upon the city. The river might be seen from the spot where I was standing, running swiftly along; and so deep was the silence that you could even hear the gush of the water as it fretted round some large stones in the centre of the stream.

Suddenly there rose into the air from the ground above me, the sharp, clear howl of a female voice, and at the same instant the sound of a rattle broke upon my ear as a signal of alarm. I sprang up the few feet which were between me and the house with the speed of lightning, and turning rapidly the corner of the building, reached the principal entrance. One look told me everything: at an upper window, in a loose dress, was Fida herself, springing the rattle which she held in her paw, with a strength that fear alone could have given her; and below, where I myself stood, were four or five dogs differently engaged, but evidently trying to get into the house.

A kick from my right leg sent one of them to the ground, and, with my clenched paw, I struck a blow at the second. Never do I remember feeling such strength within me, such a resolution to attack twenty dogs if it were necessary, although the next minute I might be torn in pieces. I have sometimes asked myself whether the presence of Fida had anything to do with it, or if a sense of duty only inspired me. I have never been able to reply to the question in a satisfactory manner. I only know that the fact was as I say, and that the blow I gave was surprising even to myself; my paw caught the animal precisely under his chin, and sent him flying backwards, with his nose in the air and his hat behind him; and as the moon shone brilliantly upon his upturned face, I recognised the features described to me as those of Lupo. He lay so still upon the ground that I thought he must be killed; so, leaving him for a moment, I pursued some others who were running off in the distance, but did not succeed in catching them. I said a few cheering words to Fida at the window, and returned to the spot of my encounter with Lupo; but instead of that terrible beast, found some of my own followers, the father of Fida, and one or two servants, who had been roused by the tumult, and had come out to learn the cause. Lupo was nowhere to be seen. He had either partly recovered from the blow, and had managed to crawl away, or had been dragged off by some of his troop.

Nothing could have been more fortunate to me than this night's adventure. The father of Fida, who had seen the attack from his window, was the head of one of the best families of dogs in Caneville, and being, besides, very rich, he enjoyed great power. He was so pleased with what I had done, that he not only took a great liking to me himself, but he spoke of my conduct in the highest terms to the great assembly. I received public thanks; I was admitted to the honour which I now hold, that of forming one of the second assembly of the city; I was loaded with rich presents, and equally rich praise; and I may also date from that night, the obtaining the richest gift of all, the gift which has made the happiness of my best years; I mean the possession of my wife, the beautiful Fida.