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

by Frances E. Slaughter

By the time my friend’s visit came to an end I had begun to wonder if I could ever give him up. As no suitable home offered, and the weeks passed, Gubbins carried the citadel by assault by reason of an illness he had at the very time I had a friend seriously ill in the house. Between my duties in the sick-room I made hurried visits to the suffering dog, who spent his time by the now deserted chair in my study. He would eat nothing but what I gave him, and by his touching trust in, and affection, for me he fairly won my heart.

It was not long after this that Gubbins had his first and only taste of show life. I had been asked to support a dog show in the neighbourhood, and consequently entered him and another of my dogs, Gubbins at that time being about three years old. On the morning of the show, he was taken and delivered over to the authorities, as I was not able to go myself till later in the day. When I entered the show ground I made my way at once to the place where the Skyes were benched, but could see nothing of my dog. The attendants could give me no tidings of him, and it was a kindly stranger who, overhearing my inquiries, at last told me he had seen a Skye in the pet dog section of the show, and he added, “the sooner he was taken away he thought the better.” I hastened to act on the suggestion, and to my great annoyance found my poor Gubbins, looking the picture of misery, benched in a place only large enough for a dog half his length and size. He was, indeed, so stiff and cramped when I took him out that he could hardly stand. The man in charge of the benches was quite deaf to my assertion that it was cruelty to put a dog in a place so obviously unfit for him, and in spite of the absurd mistake that had been made he tried to refuse to allow me to move him. To this, not unnaturally, I paid no heed, but taking Gubbins with me I told the man I would see the secretary about the matter. When I found this functionary, a much harassed individual, who seemed far from being at home at his duties, I was told curtly that he supposed the mistake was mine in entering the dog for a wrong class! In any case it was against the rules of the show for a dog to be taken from the benches until the judging was over. Nevertheless Gubbins did not return to his martyrdom, and it took him many days to recover from the effects of the combined foolish treatment, and the terror he had suffered at finding himself among strangers. I decided that any honours he might win would be dearly bought, as it was clear his early experiences had made him unfit for show life, and I always refused to let him try his fortune again.

My other dogs were sent to new homes when I gave up my house, but Gubbins became a great traveller, and accompanied me everywhere in the wanderings of the next few years. At first he was quiet as a mouse when taken by carriage or train, and I had no anxiety as to his ever wandering from me, even in the most crowded thoroughfares. But as his nature recovered its tone, and a bright, joyous, and independent outlook on life became habitual to him, he grew wilful and over confident that my protection was sufficient to rescue him from any trouble. Yet he was three months in my house before he lost the habit of keeping himself hidden from view, and was, as I have said, always concealed behind or under some article of furniture. The slightest accidental touch of a foot, even the gentlest, was enough to make him flee in terror, and for hours afterwards he would not come out from his shelter, or respond to any caresses. Almost to the end of his life, until sight and hearing were impaired, he always rushed into the most secluded corner he could find whenever strangers came into the room, and no blandishments would draw him out while they remained.

I thought at first that his spirit had been so utterly broken that he would never recover, but would always need the care lavished on a semi-invalid. But gradually and surely he began to show the natural fearlessness of his disposition and the bright playfulness that afterwards distinguished him. Little by little he gained courage, and secured his place as first favourite in the house. I do not think, however, that he was ever quite happy while the other dogs remained, though he thoroughly enjoyed his daily scamper with them.

After his first illness he would never feed in the outhouse where the dogs’ dinner was made ready for them. Daily complaints came to me that Gubbins would not touch his food, and though if I went out and petted and encouraged him he would begin to eat heartily, the instant I turned away he stopped, and no one could induce him to take another mouthful. I said sternly that he must be left till natural hunger forced him to give up the fancy, and it was only when I found how thin and weak he was getting that one day I ordered his previously rejected food to be brought into the dining room. The bowl was put down on a newspaper, spread out for a tablecloth. Gubbins watched the proceedings with interest, and then with much tail wagging, fell on the food with a will and quickly disposed of it. Never after this did he attempt to go near the other dogs when they were feeding, but at breakfast time curled himself up near the spot where his bowl had been placed, and waited till it was brought to him. That I do not shine as a disciplinarian with my pets must, I fear, after this be conceded, for there are drawbacks to feeding a long-haired dog on your dining-room carpet. It only needed a day or two to show Gubbins that manners in the house were not quite on a level with those of the dogs’ feeding-place. As soon as the last mouthful of food was disposed of, a kennel duster was brought into play to remove the remains of the meal from the long hair about the mouth and at the tips of the beautiful ears. After the first time or two he showed his appreciation of the new régime by standing quietly with his head over the dish where he had just finished eating, and if he was not attended to immediately he would look round to see the cause of the delay.

His enormously thick coat required the most careful daily grooming, and the time spent on this was not an unmixed pleasure to Gubbins. For some time he submitted quietly, as he did to everything else that was asked of him, but by the time he had won his place in the dining room, and the kitchen regions had become unknown ground to him, he sometimes showed resentment at the treatment his tangled locks entailed on him.

The first serious difference of opinion I had with him came over his refusing a piece of toast he had asked for at breakfast. As he had asked for it, he must be made to eat it. But each time the usually coveted dainty was put before him his tongue came out, and with a contemptuous flick sent it rolling over the floor. He was told it must be eaten, and a mutinous determination not to obey was shown in the pose of his head, for one can hardly speak of expression where the face, even to the eyes, was entirely covered with thick, falling hair. But the whole contour of his form expressed a great refusal, and it was felt that a lesson of obedience must be given.

When the meal came to an end the toast was again offered and rejected, and before I left the room Gubbins was fastened to the leg of the table, and I told him the toast must be eaten before he would be released. While the maid was clearing away the breakfast things Gubbins lay perfectly quiet, but as soon as he found himself shut in alone he began to call and struggle. I went in more than once to see if the dispute was at an end, but no, there lay the rejected morsel, and Gubbins would have none of it. When the hour arrived for the daily walk great sounds of unrest came from the room, and once more looking in I found, to my astonishment, the dog had actually succeeded in dragging the fairly large dining table quite out of its place, in the direction of the door. A chorus of angry barks showed his displeasure, but there still lay the uneaten toast. At this moment, while the door was standing open, the other dogs came into the hall on their way out. “Is Gubbins to come with us?” asked their guardian. “No,” I answered. “If he will not eat the toast he must be left at home.”

Behind the bundle of hair I could just see two bright eyes fixed on my face. The front door opened, and the other dogs rushed out. Gubbins sat up, listening intently, and when he found the others were actually going without him he looked round for the object of contention, flung himself upon it, swallowed it, and then rushed barking to the end of his tether, demanding to be set free. Needless to say this was done, but the excited, quivering dog turned for one second to give my hand a dainty, propitiatory lick before he rushed off wildly in pursuit of the others.

The lesson was remembered, but all through life, from this point, a wilful determination to have his own way was one of his characteristics. This I attribute to the reaction from the harsh treatment of his early days, and though it is probable that with firmer discipline it might have been overcome, I found it impossible to resort to harsh measures when he was only just coming out from the shell of nervous dread that had seemed to wrap him round from all the enjoyments of life. I fear I hailed the first exhibitions of will as an indication of his recovery to a normal state. A sharp word from me, if given at a sufficiently early stage, would always restrain him, but to others he was not so obedient, and I fear soon learned to trade on the fact that under no circumstances would he be beaten. A flick of a handkerchief he took with stoicism from others, but from my hands it had all the effect of a stronger punishment. He would crawl away, and lie, a picture of dejection, for an hour or more. He was left to feel himself in disgrace, until he would presently come creeping to my feet for the pat of forgiveness that restored him to life and animation.