THE SPANIEL AND THE COPS
“Come here, Judge,” said Col. Tom Black, the big, blonde policeman, of the Charlotte force, as a black, sleek, shaggy water spaniel started across Independence Square. “You’ve got no business over there; come here.”
Officer Will Pitts, who was by Col. Black’s side at the time, volunteered: “That is an affectionate pair—Col. Black and Judge—they like each other; they tramp the same beat together every night the colonel is on duty.”
“That’s no lie,” put in Col. Black, “that dog is as regular as a clock. He comes to headquarters just before twelve and patrols with the boys till they go off in the morning. He has sense like a man; I never saw such an intelligent animal.
“Look at that large head, those big, bright eyes and that splendid nose! Judge’s no fool!
“He’s got sense enough to vote for mayor. That’s the gospel truth.”
Pitts acquiesced in everything the colonel said, and moved around like a caged animal while Judge was being discussed. He is very fond of the dog.
Judge is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde dog. During the day, when all honest beings go about and care not who observes them and their manners, Judge plays the part of Dr. Jekyll, serving as a watchdog for his rightful master, Dr. George W. Graham, and enlivening the premises by a cheerful bark or warning growl. All friends of the family are as welcome to the place as the gentle south winds of summer, but an enemy is driven out.
Who, that strolls about the town, viewing the pretty homes, has not seen Judge, trotting about the Graham yard, at the corner of Seventh and Church streets, switching his bushy tail and smiling out of his great brownish mellow eyes at all attractive persons as they pass?