An Aged Cur.
By what means I have acquired the facility of expressing my thoughts upon paper, it is not my intention to divulge. It is true that I have made an important discovery—that I have gained possession of a secret which mankind would give worlds to possess; but I owe too little gratitude to any member of the human race to be induced to part with it. I am old: nearly fifteen winters have passed over my head since I first drew breath, and in the course of nature death cannot be far distant. My discovery shall shortly perish with me; and the same ditch or dunghill shall witness the dissolution of both.
Of my parentage I can record but little, as I remember nothing whatever of my father, and my unfortunate mother was hanged shortly after having given me birth. Alas! my recollections of her are tinged with any but pleasurable emotions, for to her I owe much of the misery with which my career has been chequered. Had she conducted herself with prudence, and been satisfied to have selected a mate from amongst the many dogs of her own degree who solicited her paw, my existence might have been passed in happy, because unnoticed obscurity. But no: stern destiny decreed that it should be otherwise, and had marked me for misfortune ere even I was born. Let not the reader start to hear me mention destiny: if he object to my opinions on this subject, he has a wide field open to him for reply in the pages of the daily press, which, CUR though I be, I am, by virtue of the discovery already alluded to, in the habit of reading; and he may rely upon it I am prepared to defend every position I advance. Why should I not mention destiny? I am a rigid fatalist, and well for me that I am. What else would enable me to bear up against the scoff and scorn of man? What else would steel my feelings against the blows of stones, thrown by the hands of such cowardly insensible men as he who published the philippic against our race, which has called forth this reply? What else would console me, when the staff of the churlish boor comes across my back, or when the urchin-rout attach the terrible kettle to my trembling tail? What supports me under such heart-rending circumstances, save the feeling that all is fixed—that such is my sad destiny, against which my barking or my struggling would avail me nought? But I digress—it is facts and not feelings that it is my province to record.
My ambitious parent, infatuated with the admiration and assiduity of her numerous suitors, despised them all, and falling a victim to her vanity, suffered herself to be seduced from the paths of propriety by a designing young pointer, who threw himself in her way, and employed every artifice, until at length he induced her to elope with him from her master’s comfortable farm-yard. For a while the guilty pair contrived to escape detection. My unhappy mother took up her abode under a hay-stack in the neighbourhood, and for a week or two was well and kindly treated by her gay and youthful lover, who regularly saved a portion of his daily meals for her use. After a little, however, meeting with a new and more beautiful object on whom to bestow his worthless affections, he abandoned my mother to her own resources, and from that period she saw him no more. Dreading to return to the home she had left, and being pressed with hunger, she was compelled to steal for her subsistence, and the poultry in the neighbouring homesteads visibly diminished in number; while, to crown all, my parent was brought to the straw, and became the mother of five little ones, including myself. The additional drag which the suckling of so large a family produced, increased my progenitor’s rapacity four-fold, and the indulgence of it caused her destruction. One day as she lay beside us, half famished, and ready almost to devour her own offspring, a little pig chanced to pass by. My mother belonged to a fierce breed, that called the bull-terrier, and, accordingly, stimulated by the gnawings of hunger, she sprang upon the little pig, and had well nigh silenced it for ever, when its loud squeals brought one of the farm-servants to the spot. We were discovered, the unlucky pig rescued, my mother hanged to a post in the barn, and we—thrown into the horsepond. My brothers and sisters all perished; but I, who was rather stronger than the rest, contrived to struggle to the bank, and was found there some short time afterwards by a young man belonging to the establishment, who carried me home with the intention of rearing me.
Oh, how grateful I felt to that young man, and how I blessed him for his kindness! But, alas! I knew little of the cruel race whose servants we are, or I should have preferred being left to die on the brink of the old pond. As soon as he got me home to his father’s, the lad put me into a bag, and having bound me securely with many cords, took a large pair of blunt and rusty scissors, and proceeded to deprive me of my ears. Why should I weary your patience with a description of the excruciating torments I suffered! Indeed, no description could convey an adequate idea of one-tenth part of the pain I endured while my ears, and then nearly the whole of my tail, were slowly and mercilessly hacked away. As to the manner in which my tail was removed, it betrayed sufficient of the savage and bloodthirsty disposition of man, to give me a foretaste of what I might expect at his hands—my tail was actually gnawed asunder by his teeth!
When about nine months old, my master came home one day in a great hurry, and summoning me to attend him, left the house as abruptly as he had entered it. He bent his steps to a neighbour’s, where we found a crowd of men and dogs assembled, apparently intent upon some exhilarating sport, for on their countenances much glee was depicted. In a corner of the room a long narrow box was placed, with a sliding door at one end. Wondering what it could contain, I stepped up to a young bull-dog, with whom I was acquainted, and inquired of him. “Lord! how green!” exclaimed he; “why, a badger to be sure; and you’ll see the fun we’ll have drawing him, presently;” and my friend Boxer licked his lips with the anticipation of a fight. I had not long to wait, when Boxer was called by his owner, who held him opposite to the box by the neck, while another person raised the sliding door. Boxer was then let loose; when, darting with excessive speed into the interior, a growling and struggling was heard, and in about a minute my friend reappeared, dragging forth to view a wild beast called a badger—an animal that I until now had conceived to be a very gentle, harmless creature; for I at once recognised in this badger one which I had frequently met in a neighbouring hedgerow when out by myself, and with which I had begun to form a slight acquaintance. What was the cause of this creature and Boxer being thus induced to tear each other, I could not divine. But guess my consternation, when, Boxer having been separated from his antagonist, and the latter restored to his cage, I was dragged forward, and held in front of it, while my master patted and encouraged me, saying, “Hiss, hurroo!—good dog, shake him!—hurroo!” The door was raised, and I was thrown forward towards it. As, however, I had no cause of quarrel with its friendly inmate, I did not, as my acquaintance Boxer had done, rush into the box; but, determining to investigate the cause of the recent conflict, I entered it slowly, whimpering as I put in my head, to let my acquaintance of the hedgerow know that I came as a friend. He had, however, been so enraged by the previous encounter, that he would not listen to my remonstrances, but growled forth, “Get out, you cur!” “Don’t be in a passion,” whimpered I; “I come as a friend.” “That’s a lie,” replied he; “you can’t be the friend of that tyrant and be mine. You are but seeking to put me off my guard;” and with this snarling answer he flew at me and seized me by the nose. This was treatment too gross to be endured, so I accordingly returned the compliment; and conceiving that I should have more room to fight on the outside, I exerted all my strength, and dragged the irascible inhabitant of the box forth to light. To my utter astonishment, however, no sooner had I reappeared, pulling old Grey along with me, than I was seized, and my throat compressed so rudely as to give me considerable pain, and indeed almost to strangle me. For this inconvenience, however, I was amply repaid by the caresses of my master, and the plaudits of the company, both men and dogs. Among others, Boxer walked up to me, and growled in his usual cynical tone. “You may come to some good yet, if you’ll only be quicker at your work.” I did not at this time understand the human language, and I accordingly detail my impressions as they struck me then, not as they appear to me now. After two or three more dogs had had a pull at the badger, many others refusing to face him, or running away when they felt his sharp teeth, on which occasions they were well kicked by their owners, I observed an unusual bustle, and was amazed at hearing my name and Boxer’s uttered in a very loud tone. The latter at the same time approached me and said, “Tell you what, young ’un, they’re talking of a fight ’twixt you and me; and if so be they’re in earnest, take care of yourself—that’s all.” “But, dear Boxer,” inquired I, wagging my tail in a conciliatory manner, “why should we fight?—surely we have no cause of quarrel?” “No business of mine,” answered he; “pleases my master; likes to see us bite and tear each other; great fun to him; must please him; gr-r-r.” So indeed it was, and I, though scarcely more than a puppy, was pitted against the redoubted Boxer. I was very unwilling to fight; for, besides that I had no quarrel with him, I did not think I was his match, and was sure of being beaten. When he seized me, however, my spirit stirred within me, and I put forth all my strength and determination. For nearly an hour we contested. Boxer at first got the better of me, and threw me down; but after a little I discovered that his tender point was his legs: so at them I directed my attack, and, getting hold of one of them, obtained an advantage which I retained to the last; when, neither being likely to prove victorious, and neither disposed to give up, we were separated. I was dreadfully cut, and my wounds smarted me amazingly; but how terrible was my torture when my master, taking me by the neck, proceeded to wash them with a liquid of a fiery burning nature, since known to me as spirit of turpentine. This was I believe designed to stop the bleeding! Such was my initiation into what men call sport. I now found that I must live without a friend, for every strange dog my master compelled me to attack. My course was marked out. My rage was to be directed against every other animal, dog, cat, rat, badger, cow, pig, &c. except such as were the property of my owner. My occupation was henceforth to be slaughter and bloodshed, and my existence was hereafter to be devoted exclusively to violence.
In scenes such as I have described passed the first three or four years of my life. My wounds were ever open, ever painful; for no sooner had one set of cuts closed, than I was forced into a new conflict, in which they were re-opened, and I received others into the bargain. At length premature old age, the result of the hardships I had endured, came upon me, and I was no longer deemed serviceable for fighting. I now suffered less from wounds and cruelties; but being regarded as a useless member of the household, I was treated with unfeeling neglect, and receiving hardly any food at the hands of my master, was driven to seek a scanty subsistence among the bones cast out upon the dunghill; and these, with an occasional crust thrown me by a good-natured stranger, were my sole support.
My master had an aged father, who lived in the house with him, and whom the neighbours conceived to have laid by a considerable sum of money. I usually slept across the hearth in the kitchen, and was one night awakened by a cry for help in the half-choking, gurgling accents of a man under the effects of strangulation. The sounds proceeded from the old man’s room. The door was open, and I darted in. The old farmer was lying half naked upon the floor: in his hand was clutched a bag, and numbers of those round yellow pieces of metal so much coveted by the human race, and called guineas, were scattered near him. A man was leaning over him, his knee upon his breast, one hand upon his throat, and the other endeavouring to drag from him the precious bag. I saw not the face of the spoiler, but perceiving only the danger of my master’s old father, whom, harsh as he too had been to me, I instinctively loved, and felt it my duty to defend, I sprang upon the robber, for such I judged him, and pulled him to the ground. The old man fainted away. A gleam of moonlight at this crisis entered the casement, and disclosed to my horrified gaze, in the countenance of the robber whom I was throttling, the features of MY MASTER! In the suddenness of my surprise and consternation I relaxed my gripe; and the villain who had striven to rob his father, and had raised his hand against the person of his aged parent, sprang to his feet and fled. I had by this time learned to understand a little of the human language; and as the ruffian darted through the door, the word “damnation!” struck upon my ear.
The old man, as I have stated, had fainted. Happy for him that he had not recognised his assailant before my interference, for further opportunity of recognition he had none. From that fit of insensibility he awoke in another and I hope a better world.
I was now an outcast—a wanderer over the face of the earth. I went forth, wretched and desponding, moralising upon the dreadful lengths to which their love of gold will lead our masters, mankind. “Oh!” thought I, “if we but take a bone from a larder-shelf to satisfy our hunger, how we are abused, sworn at, and flogged! Yet the same man who will punish us for a trifling theft, will not hesitate to wrong or murder his neighbour for a few worthless, perishable pieces of yellow metal. Oh, destiny, how I thank thee, despite my sufferings, that I was not born a man! What sordid, selfish wretches these men are! Their thoughts from morning until night are occupied with speculations intended to promote their own comfort, their own aggrandizement. The dog alone loves his master better than himself, and will lay down his life in his defence. Man is a base, selfish wretch. The dog alone honours and practises generosity uninfluenced by hope of recompense.”