"The One" Dog and "The Others": A Study of Canine Character

by Frances E. Slaughter

So unforgetful in his constancy.”

“THE One” of all dogs for me was a long, low Skye of the old-fashioned drop-eared kind. In breed and build he was just what I had always said I would not have as a house dog, yet I never regretted the weakness that forbade me to send the forlorn little stranger away. He had no eventful history, and though I am persuaded that no other of his kind was ever quite so intelligently sympathetic and altogether lovable as he, I have nothing to relate of him that “The Others” will not outdo at every turn. Yet for me he is the one apart, and his memory has all the fragrance of richest perfumes from friendship’s garden.

It is in his life, and in those of my friends’ dogs, whose life histories I have written, that I have found the data for such thoughts and fancies concerning our relations with the dog, and of the various pleasures, pains, and obligations that result therefrom, which I hope my readers may share with me.

The summer in which Mr. Gubbins came to me, I had a lady staying with me, who was also a great lover of dogs. A brother of this friend it was, who brought the little aristocrat with the strangely incongruous name to ask a temporary shelter, while his owner looked out for a suitable home for him. This man, another keen dog-lover, had seen and admired the beautiful young Skye at a country house where he was staying. He made friends with the timid, shy animal, who belonged to no one in particular in the house, and when the visitor left, the terrier was offered to him. He could not find it in his heart to refuse, so he brought it to his sister to take care of. I may say that at the time I had a Basset hound and a bulldog, both of which slept in my room at night

When this friend came into my study, where his sister and I were sitting, my astonishment was great to see a long, grey, hairy creature, of which nothing could be distinguished but his magnificent coat, slip in at the door behind the visitor. After a short pause, during which the bright eyes hidden behind a cloud of hair were doubtless taking in the bearings of the situation, the terrier made straight for the long, low chair at the further end of the room, where I was sitting, and curled himself up behind it. My other dogs were in the garden, and there was no one to dispute the refuge with him. He submitted quietly to caresses, but was evidently so frightened that he was soon left in peace, while the reason of his advent was explained.

The Child of the House
GUBBINS

He had gone as a puppy to his late owners, from his breeder Mr. Pratt, whose long-haired Skyes were at one time well known in Hyde Park, where their master took them for their daily exercise. These dogs were bred with the nicest care, and the strain that came from Lady Aberdeen’s kennels had been preserved. Pratt, who was a butler, living with a family on the Bayswater side of the Park, was devoted to his dogs, but as he could not keep a great number of them, and doubtless looked to making his hobby a profitable investment, the puppies were sold at a remunerative price.

In the case of my own favourite, he had gone early to his country home, and, not having been trained to the house, he was put in the charge of a gamekeeper to have his education completed. This man, whose very name I do not know, had little idea of the gentleness required for successful training. He was harsh and ill-tempered, and the shy, wild little creature, who all his life long was one of the most sensitive of his kind, was years before he recovered from the experiences of those early months. He was cowed and frightened, and, not having the bright merry little ways of puppyhood, he won no favour from any member of the family when he was sent up to the house with his first hard experience of life behind him. He crawled about the grounds by himself, and only asked to be left alone and unnoticed, so that he might escape the rough usage that he associated with intercourse with the superior being. The long grey form was creeping over a wide expanse of lawn, looking a dejected enough specimen of his race, when the visitor saw him from his bedroom window, and was struck by his great beauty. When Gubbins left with his new owner he accepted the experiences of the journey by road and rail with the dejected submission that only gradually gave place to a real joy in living as he began to forget what harsh words and blows, and the chilling guardianship of kindly but unloving owners, were like.

For the first weeks he was regarded as my visitor’s property, and for a few nights he slept in her room. But in spite of this, and of the constant presence of my own dogs with me, he attached himself to me from the first. He spent long hours curled up behind my study chair, or, if he could gain entrance to my bedroom, he would lie contentedly under the bed. I took very little notice of him, as I did not wish to become fond of him, and was only anxious that he should find a good home before my visitor left me. But very soon Gubbins would follow the other dogs when they rushed up or downstairs in front of me, and he and the Basset being of unusual length of body and shortness of limb, my friend always used to call the procession, “dog by the yard.” Gubbins was so quiet and harmless that the others from the first seemed to accept him as not worth disputing with. When I was busy in my study I soon got into the habit of putting down my hand to pat the little hairy ball that was sure to be within reach, for the garden gambols of the other dogs had as yet no attraction for him. Then one night he got into my room, and was so reluctant to be taken off to his usual quarters that he was allowed to stay, and from that time to almost the end of his long life he never slept away from me when I was at home.