Dogs abound in every Burmese village, and they and the pigs are the chief scavengers of the place. Their number is legion, for it is contrary to the Buddhist religion to take life, so all puppies are allowed to live; and as it is further considered an act of merit to feed them, they have a fairly pleasant existence.
The pariah dog performs his scavenging duties conscientiously, but he possesses few other merits to recommend him to one's esteem. He is at best a stupid, noisy, thieving brute, whose "customs are nasty and whose manners are none;" he occupies his time eating, sleeping, and fighting, and his chief amusement is to snap at the heels of the European, and lie across the road to upset the unwary bicyclist. Periodically, when the pest becomes unbearable, a day of slaughter is appointed by the Majesty of the Law, and all dogs who have no owner are poisoned. But in spite of this rigorous measure, there never seems much diminution in the numbers.
Our neighbour possessed three English dogs,—two terriers and a greyhound. They had, no doubt, been well brought up, but had been led astray by evil companions, and they joined in the campaign which the rats, crows, and other creatures carried on against us. They delighted to creep into our compound, trample on the flower beds, steal my cakes (perhaps the household was not altogether sorry for that), and make away with our tennis balls. One day, they drove a herd of ponies all over our beloved garden, and then retired chuckling, to watch from a safe distance, our desperate attempts to induce the bewildered creatures to find the gate.
The greyhound, I think, would have been a harmless creature, but the terriers possessed a full share of the devilry of their breed, and urged him to accompany them in all their audacious tricks. I believe it was they who persuaded three goats (the chief destroyers of our kitchen garden) to commence their raiding expeditions into our grounds, for the goats always appeared from the neighbourhood of the dog's kennels, and there was generally one terrier, at least, watching when Po Sin's energetic chase of the goats over the radish beds began.
Other animals there were in the neighbourhood of Remyo, dwellers in the jungle, very different from the mischievous crew I have just described. Tiger, bear, panther, cheetah, soft-eyed gyee, hares, jackals, and others. Sometimes, as night drew near, I tried to picture how the inhabitants of the jungle would be waking from sleep and preparing for their busy night's work.
The "Jungle Books" had of course inspired me with a great interest and affection for all these animals, especially "Baloo" the bear, and "Bagheera" the black panther, and I continued to love them so long as they remained at a respectable distance, but when, at times, they made expeditions into our neighbourhood, my admiration changed to awe.
A tiger was the first visitor; he killed two ponies in the stable of a neighbour. Then a black panther commenced to parade, nightly, the road between our house and the club. He snapped up a little terrier which was trotting along at its master's heels one evening; he was reported to have been seen many times about dusk, slinking along by the road side, and one man broke a record on his bicycle, followed by an innocent and admiring pariah dog which he mistook for the panther. There is no doubt that the panther really did for a time haunt the road, but he was so useful as an excuse for the men to stay late at the club till they could get a lift down in someone else's dog-cart (an excuse that appeared quite convincing to their nervous wives) that he almost became an institution.
From the first I distinctly disliked jackals. My bedroom window opened upon the back veranda, and one night I was awakened by a noise, and looking out I saw two of these beasts (I did not know at the time what they were) walking softly up and down devouring some food which the loogalays had left there.
For some time I watched them, fascinated by these shadowy dark forms creeping about in the moonlight. Then, remembering that the back door was unfastened, that I was most probably the first person they would encounter should they enter, and that I had promised faithfully to return to England in six months, I thought it time to rouse my brother-in-law.