And here let me ask if you are aware of the cunning and sagacity of these sheep-killing dogs, that they never kill sheep on the farm to which they belong, or in the immediate vicinity, but often go miles away; that they always return before daylight, and before doing so wash themselves in some stream to get rid of the blood.
In Germany I knew a large dog that was very fond of grapes, and at night used to slip his collar in order to satisfy his propensity; and it was not for some time that the thief was suspected, owing to his returning before daylight and appearing innocently chained up in his kennel.
A closely similar case is recorded in Mr. Duncan's book on 'Instinct' of a dog belonging to the Rev. Mr. Taylor, of Colton. The only difference is that the delinquent dog slipped and afterwards readjusted a muzzle instead of a collar.
In connection with sly sagacity I may also give another story contained in my correspondence, although in this case I am specially requested by my correspondent not to publish his name. I can, therefore, only say that he occupies a high position in the Church, and that the dog (a retriever) was his own property:—
The dog was lying one evening before the kitchen fire where the cook had prepared a turkey for roasting. She left the kitchen for a few moments, when the dog immediately carried away the turkey and placed it in the cleft of a tree close to the house, but which was well concealed by the surrounding laurels. So rapid were his movements that he returned to his post before the cook had come back, and stretching himself before the fire, looked 'as innocent as a child unborn.' Unfortunately for him, however, a man who was in the habit of taking him to shoot, saw him carrying away his prize and watched his progress. On coming into the kitchen the man found the dog in his old place pretending to be asleep. Diver's conduct was all along dictated by a desire to conceal his theft, and if he were a man I should have said that he intended, in case of inquiry, to prove an alibi.
Mr. W. H. Bodley writes me of a retriever dog that belonged to him:—
Before he came to me he lived where another dog of similar size was kept, and on one occasion they fought. Having been chastised for this, on future occasions when they quarrelled they used to swim over a river of some breadth, where they could not be interfered with, and fight out their quarrel on the other side. What seems to me noteworthy in this conduct is the self-restraint manifested under the influence of passion, and the mutual understanding to defer the fight till they could prosecute it unmolested; like two duellists crossing the Channel to fight in France.
It is, of course, a well-known thing that dogs may easily be taught the use of coin for buying buns, &c. In the 'Scottish Naturalist' for April, 1881, Mr. Japp vouches for the fact that a collie which he knew was in the habit of purchasing cakes with coppers without ever having been taught the use of coin for such purposes. This fact, however, of a dog spontaneously divining the use of money requires corroboration, although it is certain that many dogs have an instinctive idea of giving peace-offerings, and the step from this to the idea of barter may not be large. Thus, to give only two illustrations, Mr. Badcock writes to me that a friend of his had a dog which one day had a quarrel with a companion dog, so that they parted at variance. 'On the next day the friend appeared with a biscuit, which he presented as a peace-offering.' Again, Mr. Thomas D. Smeaton writes to me of his dog that he 'has an amusing practice when he is restored to favour after some slight offence, of immediately picking up and carrying anything that is handiest, stone, stick, paper: it is a deliberate effort to please, a sort of good-will offering, a shaking hands over the past.'
I am indebted for the following to Mr. Goodbehere, of Birmingham; it may be taken as typical of many similar cases:—
My friend (Mr. James Canning, of Birmingham) was acquainted with a small mongrel dog who on being presented with a penny or a halfpenny would run with it in his mouth to a baker's, jump on to the top of the half-door leading into the shop, and ring the bell behind the door until the baker came forward and gave him a bun or a biscuit in exchange for the coin. The dog would accept any small biscuit for a halfpenny, but nothing less than a bun would satisfy him for a penny. On one occasion the baker (being annoyed at the dog's too frequent visits), after receiving the coin, refused to give the dog anything in exchange, and on every future occasion the latter (who declined being taken in a second time) would put the coin on the floor, and not permit the baker to pick it up until he had received its equivalent.