An excellent clergyman, residing close to Brighton, gave me the following curious anecdote of a dog which his son, the late greatly-lamented Major R—— brought to England with him from Spain. This dog was a sort of Spanish terrier, and his disposition and habits were very peculiar indeed, unlike those of any dog I ever heard of. One day a teacher of music was going to one of her pupils, and as she was passing at some little distance from the house of the owner of this dog, had her attention attracted to him. He first looked at her very significantly, pulled her by the gown the contrary way to which she was going, and evidently wanted her to follow him. Partly instigated by curiosity, but chiefly because he held her gown tight in his mouth, she suffered herself to be led some distance, when the dog brought her into a field in which some houses were in the course of being built. She then became alarmed, and seeing two or three labourers, she asked them to drive away the dog. Finding, however, that he would not quit his hold, they advised her to see where the dog would lead her, promising to accompany and protect her. Thus assured, she allowed him to lead her where he pleased. The dog brought her to the houses which were being built. On arriving at them, it was found that the area had been dug out, and a strong plank placed across it, one end resting on a heap of earth. At this end the dog began to scratch eagerly; and on the plank being lifted up, a large beef bone was discovered, which the dog seized in his mouth, and trotted away with it perfectly satisfied. My informant said that he had taken some pains to ascertain the accuracy of this anecdote from the young lady herself, and that I might depend on its truth.
A somewhat similar occurrence took place in my own neighbourhood, very recently. A lady, going to make a morning's call, passed the gateway of a house, when her gown was seized by a dog, who pulled her the contrary way to which she was going. She at last disengaged herself, and made her call. On coming out, the dog was waiting for her, and again took her gown in his mouth, and led her to the gateway she had previously passed. Here he stopped, and as the dog held a tight hold, she rang the bell; and on a servant opening the gate the animal, perfectly satisfied, trotted in, when she found that he belonged to the house, but had been shut out.
It may be also mentioned as an instance of courage and fidelity in a terrier, that as a gentleman was returning home, a man armed with a large stick seized him by the breast, and striking him a violent blow on the head, desired him instantly to deliver his watch and money. As he was preparing to repeat the blow, the terrier sprung at him, and seized him by the throat. His master, at the same time, giving the man a violent blow, he fell backwards and dropped his stick. The gentleman took it up, and ran off, followed by his dog, but not before the animal had torn off and carried away in his mouth a portion of the man's waistcoat.
The following fact will serve to prove that dogs are capable of gratitude in no ordinary degree:—
A surgeon at Dover, seeing a terrier in the street which had received some injury, took it home; and having cured it in a couple of days, let it go. For many weeks the grateful animal used to pay him a daily visit of a few minutes, and after a vehement wagging of his tail, scampered off again to his own home.
A neighbour of mine has a terrier which has shown many odd peculiarities in his habits. He has contracted a great friendship for a white cat, and evinced his affection for it the other day in a curious manner. The dog was observed to scratch a large deep hole in the garden. When he had finished it he sought out the cat, dragged her by the neck to the hole, endeavoured to place her in it, and to cover her with the soil. The cat, not liking this proceeding, at last made her escape.
While two terriers were hunting together in a wood, one was caught by the leg in a trap set for foxes. His companion finding that he could not extricate the other, ran to the house of his owner, and by his significant gesticulations induced him to follow; and by this means he was extricated.
Mr. Morritt, well known to the readers of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, as his intimate and confidential friend, had two terriers of the pepper-and-mustard breed, or rather, as we prefer him to any other character Sir Walter Scott has delighted us with, the Dandy Dinmont breed. These dogs (for we avoid the feminine appellation when we can) were strongly attached to their excellent master, and he to them. They were mother and daughter, and each produced a litter of puppies about the same time. Mr. Morritt was seriously ill at this period, and confined to his bed. Fond as these dogs were of their puppies, they had an equal affection for their master, and in order to prove to him that such was the case, they adopted the following expedient. They conveyed their two litters of puppies to one place, and while one of the mothers remained to suckle and take care of them, the other went into Mr. Morritt's bedroom and continued there from morning until the evening. When the evening arrived, she went and relieved the other dog, who then came into the bedroom, and remained quietly all night by the side of the bed, and this they continued to do day after day in succession.
This charming anecdote was communicated to me from a quarter which cannot leave a doubt of its authenticity, and affords an affecting proof of gratitude and love in animals towards those who have treated them with kindness, and made them their friends. Such an anecdote as this should be sufficient to preserve dogs from much of the ill-treatment they meet with.
I knew a very clever terrier belonging to a friend of mine. His name was Snap. Now Snap one fine, hot, summer's day, accompanied his master, who was on horseback, on his way from London to the neighbourhood of Windsor. The road was very dusty, and, as I have said, the weather hot, and Snap was very thirsty. No water was met with until Hounslow had been passed. At last a woman crossed the road with a bucket of water, which she had drawn from a neighbouring pump. On arriving at her cottage she placed it outside her door, and left it there. Snap saw it and lapped up some of the water with evident satisfaction, his master waiting for him. When he had finished his lapping, instead of following, he deliberately inserted his hind-quarters into the bucket—took a good cooling bath—shook himself in the bucket—jumped out—gave himself another shake, and then followed his master. If Snap was lost in London, he would go to every house usually frequented by his master; and if he then could not find him, would return home. Snap, in fact, was an extraordinary dog.