There are no less than six Airedales on the staff of the paper we work on—that is, six dogs more or less definitely recognizable as such. In fact, if you were to take the whole six of them—one dog's ears and another's tail and another's legs and another's coat—you would almost have a real Airedale, which is pretty good going with average Airedales these days.
One of them got lost the other day. They are always getting lost. Airedale books and salesmen will tell you that you can't lure an Airedale away from home. The suggestion is that if you were to invite a neighbor's Airedale out for a walk he would knock you down and bite a piece out of your Adam's apple.
Well, all we can say is that every postman or butcher boy or grocer's man in town is escorted on his rounds by two or three Airedales belonging to the best families. We even used to know one that came down-town and spent his days in the back room of a saloon. We saw him there ourself, but he cut us dead—perhaps because we didn't treat him.
The Staff Airedale that got lost is principally distinguished by the possession of a thoroughbred tail. So the owner claims, at any rate. He has frequently called our attention to it, and asked us to note the correctness of the angle at which it is held. But we could never see much in a shaggy stub of that sort, no matter how perpendicular. Now, if it was a nice, long curly tail—but then, of course, it wouldn't be an Airedale. And this dog was bought for an Airedale, the price being the principal evidence of pure breeding—that and the tail.
Well, when the dog left home, the owner immediately advertised for his recovery. Personally, we would have moved at once to another street to prevent him finding us again. But the owner advertised; and for the past two or three days we have spent most of our time listening to him answer enquiries over the 'phone. He is called up every twenty minutes by someone who has an Airedale which he is sure must be the one wanted.
The thing begins to sound like a conspiracy. Are people trying to work off a lot of second-hand Airedales—model 1916—for the sake of the reward? Or do they just want to get rid of their own dogs, and are too kind-hearted to shoot them? Anyway, this is how it sounds—his office is near our own:
"Hello!—yes, an Airedale—where did you find him, hey?"
A long pause, during which the person at the other end of the line tries to prove honesty of character and purity of intention.
"What sort of a tail has he, hey?—is it a good tail?—what do I call a good tail, hey?—well, a good tail stands up straight with a little bend in it—oh, about four or five inches long and pretty thick."
Another long pause, while the person at the other end of the line drops the receiver, goes out to the barn to study the dog's tail, and comes back to report.