[❏
LARGER IMAGE]

“The following instance is likewise very instructive. I must premise that the Terrier in question far surpassed any animal or human being I ever knew in the keen sensitiveness of his feelings, and that he was never beaten in his life. Well, one day he was shut up in a room by himself, while everybody else in the house where he was went out. Seeing his friends from the window as they departed, the Terrier appears to have been overcome by a paroxysm of rage, for when I returned I found that he had torn all the bottoms of the window-curtains to shreds. When I first opened the door he jumped about as Dogs in general do under similar circumstances, having apparently forgotten, in his joy at seeing me, the damage he had done. But when, without speaking, I picked up one of the torn shreds of the curtains, the Terrier gave a howl, and rushing out of the room, ran up-stairs screaming as loudly as he was able. The only interpretation I can assign to this conduct is, that his former fit of passion having subsided, the Dog was sorry at having done what he knew would annoy me; and not being able to endure in my presence the remorse of his smitten conscience, he ran to the farthest corner of the house, crying peccavi in the language of his nature.

“I had had this Dog for several years, and had never—even in his puppyhood—known him to steal. On the contrary, he used to make an excellent guard to protect property from other animals, servants, &c., even though these were his best friends. Nevertheless, on one occasion he was very hungry, and in the room where I was reading and he was sitting there was, within easy reach, a savoury mutton chop. I was greatly surprised to see him stealthily remove this chop and take it under a sofa. However, I pretended not to observe what had occurred, and waited to see what would happen next. For fully a quarter of an hour this Terrier remained under the sofa without making it sound, but doubtless enduring an agony of contending feelings. Eventually, however, conscience came off victorious, for, emerging from his place of concealment, and carrying in his mouth the stolen chop, he came across the room and laid the tempting morsel at my feet. The moment he dropped the stolen property he bolted again under the sofa, and from this retreat no coaxing could charm him for several hours afterwards. Moreover, when during that time he was spoken to or patted, he always turned away his head in a ludicrously conscience-stricken manner. Altogether, I do not think it would be possible to imagine a more satisfactory exhibition of conscience by an animal than this; for it must be remembered, as already stated, that the particular animal in question was never beaten in its life.”

That extreme sensitiveness, so often an attribute of the highest kinds of mind, was developed to an extraordinary degree in this wonderful Terrier. His owner says:—“A reproachful word or look from me, when it seemed to him that occasion required it, was enough to make this Dog miserable for a whole day. I do not know what would have happened had I ventured to strike him; but once, when I was away from home, a friend used to take him out every day for a walk in the park. He always enjoyed his walks very much, and was now wholly dependent on this gentleman for obtaining them. (He was once stolen in London, through the complicity of my servants, and never after that would he go out by himself, or with any one whom he knew to be a servant.) Nevertheless, one day, while he was amusing himself with another Dog in the park, my friend, in order to persuade him to follow, struck him with a glove. The Terrier looked up at his face with an astonished and indignant gaze, deliberately turned round, and trotted home. Next day he went out with my friend as before, but after he had gone a short distance, he looked up at his face significantly, and again trotted home with a dignified air. After this, my friend could never induce the Terrier to go out with him again. It is remarkable, also, that this animal’s sensitiveness was not only of a selfish kind, but extended itself in sympathy for others. Whenever he saw a man striking a Dog, whether in the house or outside, near at hand or a distance, he used to rush to the protection of his fellow, snarling and snapping in a most threatening way. Again, when driving with me in a dog-cart, he always used to seize the sleeve of my coat every time I touched the Horse with the whip.”

Sensitiveness such as this generally goes along with the keenest susceptibility to ridicule; and here, again, the same Dog showed a dislike of being laughed at which is amusingly human, as is also the clever trick by which he tried to escape the gibes which were entering so deeply into his soul.

“The Terrier used to be very fond of catching flies upon the window-panes, and if ridiculed when unsuccessful, he was evidently much annoyed. On one occasion, in order to see what he would do, I purposely laughed immoderately every time he failed. It so happened that he did so several times in succession—partly, I believe, in consequence of my laughing; and eventually he became so distressed that he positively pretended to catch the fly, going through all the appropriate actions with his lips and tongue, and afterwards rubbing the ground with his neck as if to kill the victim; he then looked up at me with a triumphant air of success. So well was the whole process simulated, that I should have been quite deceived had I not seen that the fly was still upon the window. Accordingly I drew his attention to this fact, as well as to the absence of anything upon the floor; and when he saw that his hypocrisy had been detected, he slunk away under some furniture, evidently much ashamed of himself.”

Honesty is a virtue very commonly developed in good Dogs, and instances of it are numerous. In the family of a friend of ours there is a large Retriever—a long-faced, Puritanical-looking Dog—which, when the temptation to steal is ready to overpower him, will, to keep his virtue untarnished, turn his back upon the longed-for morsel, solemnly looking in the opposite direction. Evidently, like Coleridge’s “holy hermit,” he “prays where he does sit,” and thus overcomes the temptation. But, as usual, the best anecdote is given by Mr. Romanes, again apropos of his wonderful Terrier.

“I have seen this Dog escort a Donkey, which had baskets on its back filled with apples. Although the Dog did not know that he was being observed by anybody, he did his duty with the utmost faithfulness; for every time the Donkey turned back its head to take an apple out of the baskets the Dog snapped at its nose; and such was his watchfulness, that, although his companion was keenly desirous of tasting some of the fruit, he never allowed him to get a single apple during the half-hour they were left together. I have also seen this Terrier protecting meat from other Terriers (his sons) which lived in the same house with him, and with which he was on the best of terms. More curious still, I have seen him seize my wristbands while they were being worn by a friend to whom I had temporarily lent them.”

In some Dogs, as in many people, honesty does not spring from high principle, but from mere conventionality. Actual dishonesty, too, is the commonest vice of untrained or badly-trained Dogs. It is, however, comparatively rare to meet with Dogs whose thefts are of a really artistic nature. Two of the best instances of this are furnished by Sir Walter Scott,[105] who gives a most interesting account of a Shepherd’s Dog and a Spaniel, both of whom had a perfect talent for thieving; they were not only afflicted with kleptomania in a high degree, but showed as much talent in the performance of their equivocal deeds as the most prominent member of the “swell mob.”