Every Boy's Book: A Complete Encyclopædia of Sports and Amusements

by Unknown

Horses, again, were cropped in a most atrocious manner. Their ears were clipped close to their head, and their tails were cut quite short, leaving only a few inches of hair on the stump; so that the French satirist was quite justified in his sneer against the English as a people, who, he said, cut off the tails of their horses and the heads of their kings. The French did both afterwards, with the addition of a queen and a few princes. Nor was this all. The under side of the tail was cut across in several places—nicking, the operation was called—and then the tail was forcibly bent upwards, and tied in that position until the wounds healed, and the member left immovable. Fancy the torture the poor animals must have undergone, the fresh wounds being torn open and exposed to the air!

Mr. Waterton, the venerable naturalist, remarks that in former days he tried to aid the cause of humanity by his example, and rode a horse with a proper allowance of tail and with uncropped ears. The experiment failed. The “arbitrium popularis auræ” was pleased to declare itself against ears and tails. There was such a commotion whenever the humane rider ventured to show himself abroad on a horse which possessed the abominations of ears and a tail—he was so mobbed, and his horse was so reft of his tail by the urchins who wanted fishing-lines—that, for the sake of the beast as well as himself, Mr. Waterton was obliged to conform to the popular verdict, and dock the tail of his horse as a compromise for his ears.

Now, however, the verdict of popular opinion has undergone a change, and horses are permitted to wear their ears and tails; and the time will come before very long when a dog will be thought as much disfigured by having cropped ears as he is now thought to be when he is allowed to wear those members in their natural proportions.

The only rational excuse that can be put forward for adopting such a practice is that which is employed by the owners of game-cocks, when they clip the combs of their feathered protégés. It is, that the length of the ear affords a hold for an antagonist. But as it is not to be supposed that any of my readers are likely to belong to that brutal class of human beings who keep dogs for the purpose of making them fight each other, we may pronounce that not one single valid reason can be urged for depriving a dog of his ears.

There is the poodle, a delightful dog for a pet. They are docile in no ordinary degree, and can learn all kinds of tricks without seeming to take much trouble. Performing dogs mostly belong to this variety, and very amusing are the tricks which they will learn. They will dance a polka with easy skill. They will imitate a ball-room company with such ludicrous burlesque that no one can resist the temptation of laughing. They will walk about on their hind legs, on their fore legs, and have even been seen to walk with the two legs of one side, the other legs being held up in the air.

It was difficult to imagine how they could have been taught such a feat; but it had been done by setting a board on edge, hitching the two legs of the left side over the board, and making the dog walk along in this attitude. After passing along the board three or four times, the dogs found that they could lighten the labour by holding their upper legs clear of the board, and so they soon learned to dispense with its presence.

If you do have a poodle, you must wash him often and carefully, because these long, curly-headed dogs are apt to give out a disagreeable odour unless they are kept very clean. But do not on any account clip his hair in the stupid and ugly fashion that is so often adopted, and which was first imported from France.

In that country they shave all kinds of dogs in the same manner, leaving only a ruff round the neck, a tuft on each leg, and a tuft on the end of the tail. There are men and women who make the clipping of dogs a profession. They have carts with pictures of dogs undergoing the process, and they perambulate the streets in search of patients, just as knife-grinders do in search of work.

When they have collected a goodly assemblage of dogs, they set off to the river side, and take up their station under one of the bridges. The poor dogs, which have been trailing behind the cart at the end of cords, are now bound and muzzled, and miserable objects they look as they lie on their sides awaiting the shears of the operator. The hair that is removed is put into sacks, and sold, it is said, for manure; and the dogs are returned to their owners, metamorphosed out of all knowledge, and shivering at the slightest breeze.