Roy’s little housemate Jack, though still in his early youth, has already some well marked characteristics. He has a talent for collecting his family and keeping them together in a walk that is worthy of the powers of a sheep dog. His great accomplishment is begging, which he exercises on his own initiative and in a most effective manner. With him this habit takes the place of language. If he wants anything he sits up immediately on his hind legs, and with a wealth of expression in his eyes waits for his friends to attend to him. As the desired answer is sure to come, Jack’s faith in his method is unbounded. A little upright waiting form is not infrequently found in position before a closed door. Though the desired answer may be long in coming, Jack has every confidence that perseverance will win the day.
Between Whankey and Floss, the former a black and tan rough terrier and the latter a fox-terrier, who are both mentioned elsewhere, there existed the closest possible friendship. Though Whankey was an established favourite in her home before Floss arrived, a firm alliance soon sprang up between them. But the good feeling that marked their own relations was not extended to other dogs. No other of the many terriers owned by their mistress would they allow in the house. Even Jubilee, an older dog, who was passing her last years in the shelter of her owner’s home, was never permitted to pass the swing door that led from the kitchen regions into the front hall. If she ever appeared in the doorway, Whankey and Floss would be sure to spot her, and advance in warlike attitude, bristles up and uttering warning growls. Jubilee would respond in form, but would in the end give way to the superiority of numbers and withdraw to her own domains.
The two house favourites were always with their mistress, and both slept in her room at night. But each had her own allotted place on bed or chair, and they showed a nice sense of the social amenities, as a foundation of lasting friendship, by never taking a position belonging to the other. When Whankey died, Floss was inconsolable, and spent her time in looking for her lost friend. After a while she would pass hours together on a certain chair that used to be considered Whankey’s property. Here Floss would sit upright with an expression of misery on her little face that often induced her mistress to try and comfort her. But such efforts Floss resented, and she would snap and show marks of anger that she never displayed to her owner under other circumstances. Though Floss lived for some years, she still kept up the old embargo on the presence of other dogs in the house. Several times her mistress brought up some young puppies from the kennels, thinking that Floss would relent in favour of their youth and innocence. But Floss was unbending, and she was so unhappy at their presence that the young things were always sent away. To the end of her life Floss remembered Whankey. If the latter’s name was mentioned, she was immediately all attention, and if any one called “Whankey!” in a low voice, Floss would spring up and rush to the door, wagging her tail, and barking to be let out to look for her friend.
The highest form of disinterested affection we find in dogs, as in humans, in the love of a mother for her offspring. A friend, who was in South Africa with her husband during the late war, was at Ladysmith some months after the raising of the siege. She went out to Bulwana, and near the spot from which “Long Tom” had wrought such havoc among our people, she found a poor half-starved dog and her two puppies. The mother and one of the little things fled at the approach of strangers, but the other puppy, who was too weak to walk, clung to the kindly visitor who was probably the first human being she had ever seen. To leave the little thing in that desolate spot meant death for her, so the lady succeeded in getting down the steep side of the plateau with the puppy in her arms, and carried her all the way back to Ladysmith. Here she had no difficulty in finding a good home for the little stranger, as many people were anxious to have the care of a dog whose birth dated from the time of the siege. Efforts were made to find the starving mother and her other puppy, but these were unavailing. A short time after, however, another visitor to the scene of “Long Tom’s” exploits, found the younger dog, but the mother, who had managed to save her offspring, had lost her own life in the struggle.
Another instance of maternal love was given by a black pointer, one of those now known as the Black Prince breed. The dog was a very fine one and was much prized by her owners. In a litter of otherwise healthy puppies this dog had one weakling. The latter she would not allow to be with its stronger brethren. She was seen to carry the little one who was unable to hold her own in the rough and tumble of puppy life into a separate compartment. There she cared for it patiently and affectionately, and if it was put back with the others she instantly removed it from the dangers of companionship. This, I think, is the most touching example of motherly love in an animal that I have ever heard of. The poor dog’s care, however, was unavailing, and when the little sufferer died, she carried the dead body to a neighbouring hedgerow, and there dug a hole and buried it. The last scene of the tragedy was observed by a boy, who had taken the keenest interest in the efforts made to save the puppy’s life, and who is now the owner of the celebrated kennels of which the mother was an inmate.
VII
“Not hopeless round the calm, sepulchral spot,
A wreath presaging life we twine: