Anecdotes of Dogs

by Edward Jesse

THE TERRIER.

"Little favourite! rest thee here,
With the tribute of a tear!
* * * *
Thou hast fondled at my feet,
Greeted those I lov'd to greet;
When in sorrow or in pain,
On my bosom thou hast lain.
I have seen thy little eye
Full as if with sympathy."

There are so many varieties of terriers, and so many celebrated breeds of these dogs, that it would be a difficult task to give a separate account of each. Some have a cross of the bull-dog; and these, perhaps, are unequalled for courage and strength of jaw. In the latter quality they are superior to the bull-dog. Then there is the pepper-and-mustard breed, the Isle of Sky, the rough and smooth English terrier, and a peculiar breed, of which my own sensible little Judy, now reposing at my feet, is one, besides some others.

Perhaps there is no breed of dogs which attach themselves so strongly to man as the terrier. They are his companions in his walks, and their activity and high spirit enable them to keep up with a horse through a long day's journey. Their fidelity to their master is unbounded, and their affection for him unconquerable. When he is ill they will repose for hours by the side of his bed, as still as a mother watching over a sick and slumbering child; and when he is well they will frisk around him, as if their pleasure was renewed with his returning health. How well do I remember this to have been the case with my faithful old dog Trim! Nothing would induce him to make the slightest noise till I called him on my bed, when I awoke in the morning. Night or day, he never left me for many years; and when at last I was obliged to take a journey without him, his life fell a sacrifice to his affection for me. Alas, poor Trim!

This breed of dogs, the true English terrier, shows an invincible ardour in all that he is required to do, as well as persevering fortitude. In drawing badgers and foxes from their holes, the severe bites of these animals only seem to animate them to greater exertions; and they have been known to suffer themselves to be killed by the former sooner than give over the unequal contest.

The vignette at the end of this notice represents a favourite wire-haired terrier of mine, called Peter, well known for many years at Hampton Court. He had wonderful courage and perseverance, and was the best dog to hunt rabbits in thick hedge-rows I ever met with. He was also a capital water-dog; and he was frequently enticed by some of the officers quartered at Hampton Court to accompany them to the neighbouring lock of the river Thames, in which an unfortunate duck was to be hunted. I was assured that on these occasions Peter distinguished himself greatly, diving after the duck whenever it dived, and beating all the other dogs by his energy and perseverance. Peter was a general favourite, and perhaps this was partly owing to his being a great pickle. He was always getting into scrapes. Twice he broke either his shoulder-bone or his leg by scrambling up a ladder. He was several times nearly killed by large dogs, of which he was never known to show the slightest fear; and with those of about his own size he would fight till he died. He has killed sixty rats in a barn in about as many minutes; and he was an inveterate foe to cats. I remember once taking him with me on a rabbit-ferreting excursion. Before the ferrets were put in the holes, I made Peter quite aware that he was not to touch them; and he was so sensible a dog that there was no difficulty in doing this, although it was the first time he had seen a ferret. If a rabbit bolted from the hole he was watching, he killed it in an instant; but when the ferret made its appearance, Peter retreated a step or two, showing his teeth a little as if he longed to attack it. Towards the end of the day I had gone to a little distance, leaving Peter watching a hole. Presently I heard a squeak, and on turning round I saw the ferret dead, and Peter standing over it, looking exceedingly ashamed at what he had done, and perfectly conscious that he had disobeyed orders. The temptation, however, was too great for him to resist. Peter at last got into bad company, for he suffered himself to be enticed by the ostlers and others into the taps at Hampton Court, and they indulged him in his fondness for killing vermin and cats. He was a dog of extraordinary sense. I once gave him some milk and water at my breakfast, which was too hot. He afterwards was in the habit of testing the heat by dipping one of his paws into the basin, preferring rather to scald his foot than to run the risk of burning his tongue. He had other peculiarities. When I mounted my horse and wanted him to follow me, he would come a little distance, and then all at once pretend to be lame. The more I called the lamer he became. He was, in fact, aware of my long rides, and was too lazy to follow me. He played this trick very frequently. If I called him while I had my snuff-box in my hand, he would come to me, pretending to sneeze the whole of the time. I have said so much about Peter, because he was a good specimen of one of the small breed of terriers.

Terriers, more than any other breed of dogs, live so much in our rooms, and are so generally our companions during our walks and rides, that they naturally imbibe a great degree of sensibility of the least look or word of their master. This very sensibility makes them extremely jealous of any preference or attention shown by their master to another dog. I had an old terrier who never could bear to see me do this. He showed it not only by his countenance in a remarkable way, but would fall upon any dog he saw me caress. Mons. Blaze gives an instance of a dog having killed a young child, who had been in the habit of fondling a dog belonging to the same owner, and showing fear and dislike of him. Another dog was so strongly attached to his master that he was miserable when he was absent. When the gentleman married, the dog seemed to feel a diminution of affection towards him, and showed great uneasiness. Finding, however, that his new mistress grew fond of him, he became perfectly happy. Somewhat more than a year after this they had a child. There was now a decided inquietude about the dog, and it was impossible to avoid noticing that he felt himself miserable. The attention paid to the child increased his wretchedness; he loathed his food, and nothing could content him, though he was treated on this account with the utmost tenderness. At last he hid himself in the coal-cellar, and every means were used to induce him to return, but all in vain. He was deaf to entreaty, rejected all kindness, refused to eat, and continued firm in his resolution, till exhausted nature yielded to death.

I have seen so much of the sensitiveness and jealousy of dogs, owing to their unbounded affection for their masters, that I cannot doubt the truth of this anecdote, which was related by Mr. Dibdin. A lady had a favourite terrier, whose jealousy of any attentions shown to her by strangers was so great, that in her walks he guarded her with the utmost care, and would not suffer any one to touch her. The following anecdote will prove the unchanging affection of these dogs. It was communicated to me by the best and most amiable man I have ever met with, either in public or private life.

He had a small terrier, which was much attached to him. On leaving this country for America, he placed the dog under the care of his sister, who resided in London. The dog at first was inconsolable, and could scarcely be persuaded to eat anything. At the end of three years his owner returned, and upon knocking at the door of his sister's house, the dog recognised the well-known knock, ran down-stairs with the utmost eagerness, fondled his master with the greatest affection; and when he was in the sitting-room, the faithful animal jumped upon the piano-forte, that he might get as near to him as possible. The dog's attachment remained to the last moment of his life. He was taken ill, and was placed in his master's dressing-room on one of his cloaks. When he could scarcely move, his kind protector met him endeavouring to crawl to him up the stairs. He took the dog in his arms, placed him on his cloak, when the dog gave him a look of affection which could not be mistaken, and immediately died. There can, I think, be no doubt but that this affectionate animal, in his endeavour to get up the steps to his master, was influenced by sensations of love and gratitude, which death alone could extinguish, and which the approach of death prompted him to show. How charming are these instances of the affection of dogs to a kind master! and how forcibly may we draw forth the strongest testimonials of love from them, by treating them as they deserve to be treated! Few people sufficiently appreciate the attachment, fidelity, and sagacity of these too-often persecuted animals, or are aware how much they suffer from unkindness or harsh treatment.