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

by Frances E. Slaughter

IN the obedience that we claim and receive in such full measure from our dogs, an element of thoughtful discrimination is often shown in the response they give to our orders. Instead of following directions blindly they display a nice sense of the possibilities of the situation when all does not turn out as expected. In his behaviour a collie, who had been trained as a sheep dog, showed a power of reasoning that would have done credit to any human. The dog had gone to Scotland with his master, who was living at the time at Holyrood, where he filled the post of equerry to his relation, the High Commissioner of the day. On going into a large shop in one of the principal thoroughfares in Edinburgh, his owner told the collie to wait outside the shop door for him. The dog lay down obediently, and time passed without the reappearance of his master. The latter had indeed forgotten his dog, and had gone out by a door on the other side of the building. At length the collie, feeling that all was not right, got up and trotted back to his master’s rooms. Here he was seen by the valet, but he would not allow any one to touch him, and having satisfied himself that his master was not there, went back to his place in front of the shop door. Business detained his owner till the evening, and when at length he went home, he heard from his man of the dog’s visit, and remembered that the poor collie had been told to wait for him at the shop. Calling a cab, he drove off to the place where he had left him and found the dog obediently waiting for his return.

It is evident that when the dog realised that his master’s visit had been unduly prolonged, he thought that he might have been forgotten, and therefore took the obvious course of one possessed of reasoning power, of going to see if his owner had returned home. But he was mindful of his trust, and finding that his master had not gone back without him, he was satisfied that the order given him must be carried out to the letter. A more intelligent appreciation of the circumstances in which he was placed it would be hard to find.

Another and a wonderful instance of reasoning power in carrying out an order was shown by a collie, who was one of the performers in the sheep-dog trials held some years ago at the Alexandra Palace. A great crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings, and each dog had to single out three sheep from the flock, and drive them to a hillside about half a mile distant. On the hill was the pen into which he was to drive them. One fine collie had three wild and frightened sheep in charge, and for a long time he tried in vain to round them into the pen. They refused to face the opening, and again and again scattered in wild confusion whenever the collie tried to drive them in. The spectators watched his efforts with breathless interest. Suddenly the collie dropped as if exhausted, and lay with his back to the sheep, who were standing some little distance from the opening into the pen. He was panting with his exertions, and as he lay prone on the ground he seemed to have given up the game and to take no further interest in his charges. But the onlookers saw that every now and again he worked his body slowly backwards along the ground, the movement being so gentle that the sheep did not take alarm at it, though they moved gradually further away from him and consequently nearer to the pen. When the oft repeated manœuvre had brought them sufficiently near, the dog sprang to his feet and, twisting round with a shrill bark, drove the sheep with a sudden rush inside. A chorus of cheers showed the spectators’ appreciation of the clever way in which he had surmounted the difficulty. No man could have shown more patience in compassing the desired end, or have taken a more subtle method of overcoming opposition.

A clear evidence of reasoning power was the source of great delight to the many friends of a little dog called Nanky Poo. The name shows that the little favourite had foreign blood in her veins, and though Nanky Poo could not boast of pure descent, her mother was a Pekinese spaniel. The daughter was black, with white front and toes. She had a head that did credit to her mother’s side of the family, had a tail that curled over her back, and was too long in the leg in proportion to her size. But in spite of all blemishes in appearance, Nanky Poo was as fascinating a little specimen of her kind as any dog-lover need wish to know. In her country home, the spaniel used to have her basket in the front hall, which was used as a sitting room during the summer months. Here Nanky Poo was shut in, during her owner’s absence from the house. She was too small and too precious to be allowed to meet the possible dangers of woods and fields without a guardian at hand to protect her. But if she was left alone long, Nanky Poo found the time tedious, and whenever the front bell rang, and the man came to open it for the expected visitors, she would slip past him and make her escape. It sometimes happened that when the summons was answered no one was found waiting at the door, nor was any one to be seen in the drive. When it became of frequent occurrence for the man to be summoned on a fruitless errand, some of the household determined to solve the mystery, and, unknown to Nanky Poo, kept a watch upon her through the glass door. When the little thing got tired of solitude she was seen to get out of her basket and go to the wall on one side of the hall. Here a dainty paw was lifted to the bell wire that ran round the wall but a few inches from the ground. Nanky Poo pressed the wire down in business-like fashion, and when she was satisfied that she had brought about the desired result, she ran to the door that communicated with the house and took up her station in front of it. With her head on one side, she sat listening intently for the sound of approaching footsteps, and by the time the servant arrived she was ready to take advantage of her chance of liberty. Nanky Poo had a short but happy life, with a mistress who was devoted to her.

A high form of intellectual development must be allowed to those dogs who are always ready in an emergency to help themselves out of a difficulty, or in any other way to conform to the unexpected requirements of the moment. Such power has been shown by Bobbins, one of the old Scotch bobtail cattle dogs, throughout her life. Bobbins is a most fascinating dog, both in appearance and manner, and is of a gentle, loving nature to her friends. She is a blue grey with tan markings, and has a wonderful coat that resists the most inclement of weather. Though Bobbins came from her home in Lundy Island at an early age, and with her present owner has had none of the work in guarding sheep or cattle that is the ordinary portion of her kind, she still shows a keen appreciation of the duties to which she was bred.

BOBBINS

Not long ago Bobbins was with her mistress in the fields when they came upon some men at work. One of the men was trying to prevent some heifers from forcing their way through a gate, that led into the field. Her mistress called to Bobbins to go to the man’s assistance. Just as the dog reached him the heifers charged through, and for a moment Bobbins’s mistress feared her dog would be killed in the mad rush of the young things. Bobbins was quick to see her danger, and threw herself flat on the ground. One of the heifers who was coming straight at her jumped over her prostrate form. No sooner had she passed than Bobbins was on her feet, and, heading the rushing heifers, turned them, and drove them safely through the gate.

Another story that shows Bobbins’s readiness to adapt her methods to the needs of the moment is told by Miss Serrell, and once again I will quote from her.[6] Bobbins was giving her assistance in the work of driving a refractory bull, which refused to answer to the dog’s repeated jumps at his head. Changing her tactics, Bobbins suddenly ran behind him, “seized him by the tail, and hung on so persistently that she was swung in the air, as the bull whirled round in his efforts to get at her. Failing to dislodge her, the animal at last took fright and beat a precipitate retreat.” The bull apparently nursed a sense of his wrongs, and one day charged Bobbins unexpectedly, and all but caught her. The dog only escaped “by turning head over heels and rolling cleverly to one side.” Then she proceeded to take her revenge for the unprovoked onslaught. Before the bull had time to turn, Bobbins was snapping at his heels, and perhaps fearing a second attack on his tail, the creature made off, and for the future he and Bobbins preserved an attitude of armed neutrality.

It is of Bobbins that the delicious story is told of a judge who, not being acquainted with the breed to which the dog belonged, put her down as “a bearded collie.” When his attention was drawn to the fact that the so-called collie had no tail, the worried judge made a reply that deserves to be immortal. “If she has not a tail, she ought to have one.” Needless to say that with such shortcomings Bobbins carried off no award of merit from the show.