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

by Frances E. Slaughter

A curious sense of the cares of guardianship Floss showed in regard to the many masks and brushes that adorn the walls of her mistress’s room. Every night before she curled herself up to sleep, she was observed to sit upright and look round the walls. If one of the usual trophies had been removed from its place, she would jump up and proceed on a tour of inspection through the house to find it. As soon as she discovered it, she barked again and again till some one arrived to see what was wanted. Then she waited till her treasure was restored to its usual place, and immediately this was done she settled herself down for the night. A visitor to the house, who was much struck with Floss’s careful guard, used to go into the room at night and pretend to touch some of the furry treasures on the walls. Floss would be up and on the alert in a moment. Flying at the rash intruder, she showed herself ready to defend her mistress’s property till the pretended examination came to an end.

The strongest personal note of another fox-terrier’s character was an indomitable will power. What he wanted he would have, if any efforts of his could secure it. A more independent, self-sufficing little person it would be hard to find. Even as a tiny puppy, before he had left his mother, he took the ordering of his young life in his own hands. His future mistress, accompanied by her brother, went to see the litter, of which Tyke was one, in order to choose a puppy for herself. When the strangers came up to the family group, the young things took no notice of them, with the exception of Tyke, who sat up and barked lustily. One of the visitors was so taken with the hostile demonstration of the tiny creature that he exclaimed to his sister, “That’s the little beggar for you.” To this the lady agreed, and in due time the terrier passed into her possession.

Now Tyke was not perfect from the point of view of beauty. He was spindly in form, and had a tail that curled in reprehensible fashion. Over one eye Tyke had a black patch that was the only touch of colour on his smooth white coat. He soon made his presence felt in his new home, and whenever he did not get what he wanted without delay, he would sit down and, putting his head in the air, give a succession of piercing howls. The noise he made was such that for the sake of peace some one was sure to hurry up to see what was wanted. Whether it was a door that needed to be opened, or whatever at the moment might disturb the comfort of the puppy, he thus took his own means of ensuring its removal.

From the first he was attached to his mistress, though he gave her brother an almost equal place in his affections. To go out for a day’s rabbit shooting with the latter was one of his greatest joys. While he was engaged in his favourite sport, Tyke got a nasty blow on one of his fore legs. He was so severely hurt and the wounded leg had swollen so much, that there was no thought of taking him for the next day’s shooting. Tyke, as an invalid, was being taken care of in his mistress’s room. But no sooner did he hear the usual preparations for a day among the rabbits being made, than he pushed open the door of the upstairs room, and tore down to the hall in impetuous fashion, as best he could on three legs. But Tyke’s enthusiasm cost him dear. As he turned a corner in the staircase in a headlong rush, he missed his footing and rolled down to the bottom of the last flight of steps. On the way he snapped the bone of the injured leg about halfway up.

Tyke’s mistress, who was in the hall at the moment, picked him up, and her brother, seeing what had happened, put down his gun and rushed out to the stables to get a horse put into the dog-cart, to carry Tyke off to have his leg set. In his mistress’s arms the dog was taken by his two friends to the family doctor, who lived about four miles off. They were sure that the latter would attend to their favourite for them. In this they were not mistaken. They fortunately found the Doctor at home, and enlisted his sympathy on behalf of the little sufferer. His mistress suggested that Tyke should have chloroform, so while the medical man busied himself in getting ready a bandage, he handed the chloroform and some cotton wool to his amateur assistants. But Tyke seemed insensible to the effects of the anæsthetic, and grew so excited over the attempts to make him take it that the idea was at last abandoned. Tyke’s self-control was equal to the demands made on it, and he remained perfectly quiet throughout the operation, gently licking his mistress’s hand, as a sign of comprehension and of gratitude for the efforts made in his behalf.

During the time that Tyke was an invalid, he came in for a carriage accident of a somewhat sensational kind. He was so unhappy at being left at home when his friends were out of the house that his mistress generally carried the little thing with her wherever she went, comfortably tucked under her arm. One morning, when a friend had to be driven to the station, the horse, whose business it was to do this work not being available, an old chestnut hunter named Bessie was pressed into the service. The wagonette was to be used and the man was to drive, so the two ladies and Tyke took their places in the back part. The mare did not take kindly to her new duties, but after a good deal of fidgeting about at the start, drew the party safely to the station.

On the return journey, Bessie was startled by a dealer’s cart that came rattling up behind her at a great pace. Laying back her ears she started off at a mad gallop, and the coachman, in his efforts to get a hold on her, pulled one rein harder than the other. Bessie’s head being thus turned towards a fence, she made straight for it. Being a capital jumper—as indeed her owner’s hunters were required to be—she landed well on the top of a broad bank. But here she was reminded of the unwonted encumbrance that hampered her movements. The two front wheels of the carriage she had carried on to the bank, but the rest of the conveyance remained hopelessly behind. After struggling vainly for a few seconds to keep her footing, Bessie rolled back into the ditch, where carriage, horse, and man were mixed up in hopeless confusion. Tyke and his mistress fortunately had made their escape, for the latter, with the dog in her arms, had, while the mare was striving to balance herself on the bank, taken a flying leap over the closed door into the road, where she landed happily on her feet. Looking round for assistance, she saw that the cart, that had been the cause of the mischief, had followed, and the driver was contemplating the scene of confusion in the ditch. Catching hold of his horse by the head, the lady told the man to go to the assistance of her coachman. At last, hatless, and with his coat nearly torn from his back, but, to his mistress’s great relief, without serious injuries, the coachman was extricated from the débris. Then more people arrived on the scene, and the poor mare was got up. She, too, had, in a marvellous way, escaped further injury than some cuts about the head, but the carriage looked like a huge spilt box of matches.

It was not long before the bone of Tyke’s leg joined, and when the last bandage was taken off it was seen that the injured leg was as straight as the other. His love for a day’s shooting was as keen as ever, and his attachment to his owner’s brother was so marked that the former was always afraid her dog would be carried off by him. When a visit of her brother’s was coming to an end, she determined, therefore, to leave Tyke at home when she drove down to the station on the morning of his departure. The dog was left shut into her bedroom, and the journey to the station passed without incident. But the dog-cart had only just turned homewards when Tyke’s mistress caught sight of a small creature tearing down the hill in front of her and clearly bound for the station. She knew it must be Tyke, so flinging the reins on the horse’s neck she jumped down just in time to catch the fugitive. He was promptly put into the dog-cart and driven home, and for once Tyke’s efforts to get his own way were defeated. A maid servant was, of course, responsible for his release. When she opened the door of the bedroom Tyke slipped past her, and, finding the front door open, he had made straight for the station, covering the three miles in less time than the horse had taken.

To one of the neighbouring country houses, situated some three miles off across the fields, Tyke was a constant visitor. He had often gone over there from his home for a day’s shooting, and this was a performance after Tyke’s own heart. It was not long before he took to making visits there on his own account, for he found the time dull at home on the days when his mistress was hunting. Tyke would consequently make his way over, and then sit down and howl at the front door until he was let in. The gentleman to whom he specially attached himself on his visits was in the habit of having a late breakfast before he started for a day’s shooting. Such an arrangement suited Tyke to perfection. He could see his mistress off on a hunting morning, and still be able to reach the house in time to share in the breakfast and start in good order for the day’s work. This over, Tyke would return home with his temporary companion, and there, curling himself up in front of the fire, he would rest peacefully for some hours till he had slept off his fatigue. As soon as he woke, he considered it time to return home, and announced his wishes in the usual manner. The prolonged and continuous howls that echoed over the house, if he found himself shut in, made his friends glad to clear the way for him. But all were fond of the strange little creature, and one very wet night they determined to keep him with them till the morning. Tyke seemed to acquiesce in the proposed arrangement, and the household retired to bed. But after a time Tyke came to other conclusions, and lifted up his voice in such piercing fashion that at last the butler came down and opened the front door for him. At four o’clock in the morning his mistress was roused from sleep by Tyke’s well-known calls under her window. In the quiet night air the shrill summons was enough to rouse the household, and she therefore got up obediently and let him in. Tyke must have taken an optimistic view of the general complaisance of humans, as he curled himself up in his accustomed place for the remaining hours of the night.

He combated successfully arrangements that were not to his mind when another day’s shooting was in question. His shooting friend was going with a party after pheasants, and Tyke, when he paid one of his usual morning visits, found that after breakfast he was no longer wanted. He was, indeed, handed over to the care of his friend the butler, who, fastening a lead of string to his collar, gave him into the charge of the local postman. The latter was going as far as the village, about a mile from Tyke’s home, and the butler—with memories of Tyke’s past exploits in his mind—declared that he was well able to find his way home from the village. The postman undertook the charge, and trudged off, holding the string carefully. The dog was no trouble to lead, and after a time his guardian paid no more attention to him. Great was his horror, therefore, on arriving at the village where the dog was to be set free, to find only a collar trailing on the ground behind him. Tyke as usual had taken his own means to carry out his wishes, and having adroitly popped his head out of his collar, he returned forthwith to the house from which he had been sent.