Tiger
“That’s the animal most to be feared, as I said,” Louis declared, “if it were found in our country. But luckily there are no tigers here.”
“We have no tigers in our woods,” assented Uncle Paul, “but we have in our very midst an animal that is still more formidable in certain circumstances. This terrible enemy that we are liable to encounter at any moment does not possess by a good deal the strength of the tiger or bear; most often it is not even so strong as the wolf; sometimes it is so [[237]]feeble that a well-directed blow of the fist is enough to knock it down. Its nature is not sanguinary; its teeth and claws are not strong enough to frighten us.”
“Well, then,” Emile demanded, “why is this enemy so much to be feared?”
“Do not let this lack of strength reassure you. As for me, I shudder at the mere thought of the danger to which we are exposed. Against those other animals, however dangerous or strong they may be, defense is possible. With presence of mind and with weapons one may come out of the fight victorious; if one is injured by teeth or claws the wound may heal. But against this other creature presence of mind, skill, courage, weapons, help—all are useless; let it bite you only once, let the point of its tooth merely tear the skin so as to draw blood, making no more than a scratch, and it will suffice to endanger your very life. Better would it be to find yourself in the wolf’s jaws or the bear’s embrace. Vainly you get the upper hand and ward off the animal’s assaults, vainly you kill it: a tiny scratch, insignificant enough from any other animal, will in the near future cause your death, a horrible death, more atrocious than any other in the world. As a result of that tiny wound a day will come, and it will come soon, when, seized all at once with a furious madness, shaken by horrible convulsions, frothing with drivel, and not recognizing either relatives or friends, you will spring upon them like a ferocious beast, to bite them savagely and give them [[238]]your disease. No hope of restoring you to health, no way to alleviate your sufferings; you must be left to die, an object of horror and pity.”
“What is that formidable animal?” Jules inquired. “Are we really ever likely to have a tussle with it?”
“We are daily exposed to this danger. No one is certain of not being attacked this very day, this very instant; for the terrible animal frequents our public places, wanders in our streets, makes our houses its home, and lives in close intimacy with us. In fact, it is no other than the dog.”
“The dog, the most useful and most devoted of our servants!” exclaimed Jules incredulously.
“Yes, the dog. In proportion as it merits our attachment under usual conditions, so does it become the object of our just fear when seized with a malady called hydrophobia.”