The Light Company's Poodle and Sir F. Ponsonby.
Captain Gronow, in his gossiping book,[90] says—"Every regiment has a pet of some sort or another. One distinguished Highland regiment possesses a deer; the Welsh Fusiliers a goat, which is the object of their peculiar affection, and which generally marches with the band. The light company of my battalion of the 1st Guards in 1813 rejoiced in a very handsome poodle, which, if I mistake not, had been made prisoner at Vittoria. At the commencement of the battle of the 9th of December 1813, near the mayor's house, not far from Bidart, we observed the gallant Frederick Ponsonby well in front with the skirmishers, and by the side of his horse the soldiers' poodle. The colonel was encouraging our men to advance, and the poodle, in great glee, was jumping and barking at the bullets, as they flew round him like hail. On a sudden we observed Ponsonby struggling with a French mounted officer, whom he had already disarmed, and was endeavouring to lead off to our lines; when the French skirmishers, whose numbers had increased, fired several shots, and wounded Ponsonby, forcing him to relinquish his prisoner, and to retire. At the same time, a bullet broke one of the poor dog's legs. For his gallant conduct in this affair, the poodle became, if possible, a still greater favourite than he was before; and his friends, the men of the light company, took him to England, where I saw my three-legged friend for several years afterwards, the most prosperous of poodles, and the happiest of the canine race."
Admiral Rodney and his dog Loup.
Earl Stanhope, in his History,[91] remarks—"To those who love to trace the lesser lights and shades of human character, I shall owe no apology if I venture to record of the conqueror of De Grasse, that even in his busiest hours he could turn some kindly thoughts not only to his family and friends, but to his dog in England. That dog, named Loup, was of the French fox-breed, and so attached to his master, that when the admiral left home to take the command of his fleet, the faithful animal remained for three days in his chamber, watching his coat, and refusing food. The affection was warmly returned. On many more than one occasion we find Rodney wrote much as follows to his wife—'Remember me to my dear girls and my faithful friend Loup; I know you will kiss him for me.'"[92]
Ruddiman and his dog Rascal.
George Chalmers, in his Life of the learned Thomas Ruddiman,[93] tells us that "young Ruddiman was initiated in grammar at the parish-school of Boyndie, in Banffshire, which was distant a mile from his father's dwelling; and which was then taught by George Morison, whom his pupil always praised for his attention and his skill. To this school the boy walked every morning, carrying his daily provisions with him. He is said to have been daily accompanied by a dog, which, when he had proceeded to the top of Tooting-hillock, the halfway resting-place, always returned home after partaking of his victuals. This story is still (1794) remembered, as if there were in it something supernatural. We may suppose, however, that the excursion was equally agreeable to both parties; and when it was once known that the dog was to eat at a particular place at a stated hour, an appropriate allowance was constantly made for him. Whether Ruddiman had a natural fondness for dogs, or whether a particular attachment began, when impressions are easily made, which are long remembered, cannot now be ascertained. He certainly, throughout a long life, had a succession of dogs, which were invariably called Rascal; and which, being springing spaniels, ever accompanied him in all his walks. He used, with affectionate recollection, to entertain his friends with stories of dogs, which all tended to show the fidelity of that useful animal to man."
Mrs Schimmelpenninck, authoress of "Select Memoirs of Port Royal," died in 1856. Her interesting Autobiography and Life were published in 1858 by her relation, Christiana C. Hankin. In p. 467 it is remarked that "her love of animals formed quite a feature in her daily habits. Like St Francis, she delighted to attract the little birds, by tempting them with dainty food upon her verandah; and it was a positive pleasure to her to watch their feast. She had a bag made, which was always filled with oats, to regale any stray horse or ass; and she has been seen surrounded by four goats, each standing on its hind legs, with its uplifted front feet resting on her, and all eagerly claiming the salt she had prepared for them. But her great delight was in dogs. She never forgot those sad hours in childhood, when, unable to mix in the sports of children from illness (perhaps, too, from her want of sympathy in the usual pleasures of that age), the beautiful dogs at Barr were her companions and friends.
"It is no figure of speech to say that she had a large acquaintance amongst the dogs at Clifton. She always carried a pocketful of biscuit to feed them; and she had a canine friend who for years was in the daily habit of waiting at her door to accompany her morning walk, after which he received his little portion of biscuit, and returned to his home. Timid as Mrs Schimmelpenninck was by nature and by habit, she had no idea of personal fear of animals, and especially of dogs. I have seen her go up without hesitation to some splendid specimen of the race, of which everybody else was afraid, to stroke him, or offer food; when the noble creature, with that fine perception often so remarkably manifested by dogs and children, would look up in her face, and then return her caress, and crouch down at her feet in love and confidence. Her own two beautiful little spaniels were her constant companions in her walks; their happy gambols were always a source of pleasure."[94]