Once a man came to see Papa about something and he allowed his dog to come along. His dog was about as large as our dog. And while the men were talking business, the two dogs went about their business of getting acquainted with each other. It seemed they were getting to be friends until the fight started. The speed with which Old Scotch struck the other dog took him by complete surprise, and he went backward and sideways, almost losing his balance.
Then almost as quickly as the fight had started, Papa brought it to a halt with the command, "Scotch, stop that!" Whether the command was "sic 'em" or "stop that," Old Scotch usually responded immediately. In this particular case, a "sic 'em" started the fight and the "stop that" ended it.
As we all know, dogs have a keen sense of hearing. They can hear sounds that we humans can't hear. And as we also know, 12-year- old boys like to see dogs fight. Show me one who doesn't and I'll help you try to find out what is wrong with the boy. I was 12 at that time.
Old Scotch was by far the easiest dog I ever saw to sic onto anything he wanted to get onto. And he usually wanted to get onto any dog that happened to be close when one of us boys said, "Sic 'em." I think maybe this was because the dog lived such a lonely life. Of course, he had us humans to keep him company, but there were no other dogs about the place to accept any of the commands to sic 'em. So he had to be alert at all times and do all the dirty work himself. He was so accustomed to the word sic 'em, and he had become so easy on trigger, he was off and away before the full word was spoken. He didn't wait to hear the "'em" part of the word, he didn't even need the "c" part, but only the "si" sound, and he only needed to hear that part in a whisper.
Now, that was all I said that day—just an almost noiseless "si"—a mere hiss of wind through my upper front teeth. And I remember, Old Scotch looked up at me as if to ask, "Did I hear what I hope I heard?"
I looked at him and winked one eye and barely nodded my head toward the other dog and smiled and very quietly—almost silently- -repeated, "Si-," and in a split second he was all over the other dog like a crow on a Junebug.
After Papa had stopped the fight, Old Scotch looked at me with a question-mark expression on his face. I smiled back at him just to let him know he had not misunderstood me, and he came over to me for a pat of approval, which I gave freely.
No one had heard the "si-" except the dog and me. It would be our little secret. I certainly wouldn't tell, and he couldn't tell. I gave him a few friendly pats; he licked my hand and wagged his tail—the only way he knew how to say, "Thank you, it was fun while it lasted." Then he went back to investigating and making friends with the other dog.