found that the doors of his old home were steadfastly closed against
him, he would lie in wait for me as I went to school; and on my way home
in the afternoon, he would always follow me, drawing back his nose and
fore-paws only in time to prevent their being pinched in by the
sharp-shutting gate, and looking wistfully through the paling with his
big, honest eyes. Perhaps my elders did not understand "dog-language" as
I did; but I knew that Arno fully appreciated the feeling which led me
to throw my arms around his neck and weep bitter, childish tears on his
brown head; and he felt comforted by my sympathy, I am sure, for he
would lick my hands, and wag his long-haired tail with a little joyous
whine, before trotting back to the broad stone steps in front of his new
master's house. But night always found him under my chamber window,
which looked out on a narrow lane, used as a thoroughfare; and here I
could hear his deep-mouthed bark all night long, as he kept fancied
marauders and real dogs from encroaching on our premises and his
self-chosen battle-ground. For he met his death here, at last.
He had become quite aged; and the other dogs of the neighborhood had
frequently made common cause against him, for blocking up (to them) the
passage in the lane, but had never yet been able to rout him. One night,
however, they attacked him with overpowering numbers, and punished him
so severely that it was found to be necessary, or, at least, merciful,
the next morning, to send a bullet through his head and end his misery.
To me this all seemed terribly cruel, and I cried wildly, and sobbed out
my reproaches against everybody for having left him to lie out in the
street at night, instead of allowing him a safe shelter in the house. I
refused to be comforted, or adopt any other dog in his place; but
bestowed my affection and caresses impartially on all the stray dogs and
horses that happened to cross my path.
Some time after I was married, a little spotted dog, of no particular
breed, sought shelter from the rain on the basement-steps, one day, and
refused to "tramp" when the shower was over. She was a short-legged,
smooth-haired little thing, with the brightest eyes I ever saw in a
dog's head. Tiny soon became my pet, and amply repaid us for the food
and shelter we had given her. She learned everything, and with such
ease, that I sometimes suspected I had taken into my family one who had
formerly been a public circus performer. She could stand on her hind
legs and beg for an apple or a piece of sugar; she could find and fetch
a hidden handkerchief, glove, or cap; she could jump through a hoop, and
could pick out from among a lot of articles the shawls, comforters, or
hats belonging to myself, or any member of the family. On the approach
of a buggy to the house, she would rush to the window, and if she
recognized it as the captain's, would scratch and whine till I opened
the door for her, in sheer self-defence. Dashing up to the buggy, she
would wag her tail with such vehemence as threatened to upset her little
round body--begging in this way for a glove, or the long buggy-whip, to
drag into the house.
Tiny also knew the name of the different members of the family, whether
they occupied the same house with us, or only came on visits. If mother
came on a visit, for instance, I could send Tiny from the kitchen with a
key, a paper, or anything she could carry, and on my order, "Give it to
mother," she would carry it to the parlor, or wherever mother might be,
and lay it carefully in her lap, or on the sofa beside her. On the
order, "Kiss the captain," she would immediately dart at that gentleman,
and, if he ever so artfully avoided her little tongue for the time
being, she would watch the first opportunity to climb into his lap, or
jump on to a piece of furniture, to execute the command.
Soon after Tiny's advent, a young stag-hound was given to the captain,
and him she took under her wing, though in size he could boast of three
times her own volume. Dick, I am very sorry to own, was not so well
treated as Tiny; and I smite my breast even now, and say very
penitently, "_mea culpa_," when I think of how I hurt him, one day. I
was lying on the sofa, half asleep from the heat and the exertion of
cutting the leaves of a new magazine. Presently, Dick approached, and
before I could open my eyes, or ward him off, he had jumped on the sofa
and settled full on my head and face. Angry and half-stifled, I flung
the dog with all my might to the floor, where he set up such a pitiful
crying, that I knew he must be seriously hurt. Jumping up, I saw him,
quite a distance from the sofa, holding up his foreleg, on which his paw
was dangling in a loose, out-of-place manner. Comprehending what I had
done, I carried him into the next room, and poured the basin full of
water, in which I held his paw; and then bound rags on the dislocated
limb, steeping the paw into the water occasionally, to keep down the
swelling till the captain should come. Sorry as I felt for having
inflicted such pain on the poor animal, it was a perfect farce to watch
his proceedings, and I had laughed till my sides ached before the
captain got home. It so happened that mother and one or two other near
friends came in during the course of the day. As soon as any one entered
the room, Dick, who had been allowed to take up his quarters on a
blanket in the sitting-room, would hobble up, hold out his rag-wrapped
paw, and, elevating his nose, would utter heart-rending cries of pain,
thus "passing his hat for a pennyworth of sympathy," as unmistakably as
I have known human beings to do many a time before. Then, with cries and
grimaces, he would induce the beholder to follow him pityingly into the
next room, where he would immerse his foot in the water, as I had made
him do, once or twice. During this performance Tiny would keep close
behind him, and with little sympathetic whines, would echo all his cries
and complainings; and this show was repeated whenever they could get a
fresh spectator.
At the same time, we had in our possession a horse, which, for sagacity,
kindness, and docility, outshone all the horses I have ever had the
fortune to become acquainted with. Not the most partial admiration of
Kitty's many virtues could lead me into believing her to be beautiful,
though she was by no means an ugly horse. A bright bay, with well-shaped
head, she was too short-bodied, though the long legs seemed to lay claim
to an admixture of English blood. Kitty was a saddle-nag as well as
buggy-horse, and the captain always chose her when he had a fatiguing
ride to take; though, for my part, I should have scorned to be seen
mounted on an ugly, stump-tailed thing like her.
This is ingratitude, however; I have never had a more devoted friend
than Kitty. She was assigned to the duty of taking me out to "mother's
house," where she was always well pleased to go, for I used to take her
out of the harness and let her run loose under the orchard trees. I have
never met with a horse so expert at picking apples as she was; she never
injured the trees, and seemed always to know exactly which were the best
"eating apples." When the time came to go home, Kitty, like a sensible,
grateful horse, was always on hand; the only trouble was to get her back
into harness again--it generally being just milking-time then, and I
never liked to admit to any of the men that I could not harness a horse
as well as saddle it. So, it often happened that, after I got on the
road, Kitty would stop short and refuse to go a step farther. Whipping
would do no good on such occasions; she would only switch her tail,
stamp her foot impatiently, and turn her head around, as if to say:
"Don't you know that I have good reasons for acting so?" On throwing
down the lines, and examining the harness, I would be sure to find that
some buckle had been left unfastened, or some strap was dragging under
her feet. One day a soldier came to my assistance, and he said it was
the greatest wonder in the world that the horse had not kicked the buggy
to pieces, for I had fastened a buckle on the wrong side, and with every
step she took the buckle had pressed sorely into poor Kitty's flesh. I
could appreciate Kitty's good behavior all the more for having seen her
kick dashboard and shafts to splinters, one day, when the captain drove
her, and some part of the harness gave way.
The friendship, however, was reciprocal; for many a bucket of cool,
fresh water, many a tea-tray full of oats, and many an apple and lump of
sugar had Kitty received at my hands, when she stopped at the door, or
was taken into the back yard, to await her master's leisure to ride. The
saddle she liked best, for under it she could move about in the yard.
She would follow me like a dog, and tried to make her way into the
basement one day, where I had gone to get some grain for her. I always
kept a sack of oats in the house, as we had no stable, and the horses
were boarded at a stable down town; but Kitty would have gone without
her dinner many a time had it not been for the "private feeds" I gave
her, as the captain's opinion was that horses should not be "pampered
and spoiled." Kitty knew how much I thought of her, and sometimes
presumed on it, too. I have known her--at times, when the captain
brought her into the yard late at night, previously to sending her to
the stable--to set up such a whinnying, stamping, and snorting, that, to
the captain's infinite amusement, I was compelled to leave my bed and
take her a handful of oats or a piece of sugar. And on the street, if I
met the captain mounted on or riding behind Kitty, she would instantly
step on the sidewalk and make a dive for my pocket, to extract the apple
she fancied concealed there. Moreover, she would allow Tiny to climb all
over her back; but Dick she always greeted with a snort, and
occasionally with a kick.
One day the captain furnished a valuable addition to the "happy family,"
without, in the least, intending to do so. It seems that just as he was
leaving the house, he saw an open market-wagon, and on it two forlorn
chickens broiling in the July sun. The man offered to sell him the
chickens, so he bought them, threw them over the fence, and called to
the servant to unfasten the string fettering the feet of the poor
animals. His order was not heard; and I knew nothing of the existence of
the chickens till Tiny's barking attracted my attention. There lay the
two chickens, gasping and panting, and the dogs, like all little
natures, exhibited great delight at being able to worry and distress the
poor, defenceless creatures. I dragged the poor things into the shade,
cut their fetters, and gave them "food and drink." One of the chickens
was a gay-feathered rooster, the other, a plain-looking hen, who
exhibited, however, by far the best sense, in this, that she did not
struggle to get away from me as "fighting Billy" did, but allowed me to
pass my hand over her soft dress, accompanying each stroke with a low
crooning "craw-craw," as though wishing to express her satisfaction with
her present position. When I thought the chickens were both safe and
comfortable in the yard, I went back to my favorite resting-place--a
soft rug, in front of the sitting-room fireplace. The summer was
extraordinarily warm, and I had repeatedly wandered all over the house
in search of the "coolest place," but had always returned to this. Not
far from me was a window, from which the shutters were thrown back
directly after noon, as there was shade then on this side of the house,
and nearly opposite was a door leading to the vine-clad porch. Glad
enough to pass a part of the hot afternoon in a _siesta_, I was
surprised on waking, and stretching out my feet, to push against a soft,
round ball; and the slow "craw-craw" I heard, caused me to start to a
sitting posture. There, sure enough, was chicky, cuddled up close to my
feet, repeating her monotonous song every time I deigned to take notice
of her. I had never believed before that chickens had brains enough to
feel affection or gratitude towards anybody; but I wish to state as an
actual fact that chicky, as long as she was in my possession, never let
a day pass that she did not come fluttering up the low steps to the
porch and visit me in the sitting-room. During my regular _siesta_ she
was always beside me; and if I attempted to close the door against her,
she would fly up to the window and come in that way. Indeed, she wanted
to take up her roost there altogether; and it was only with great
difficulty I could persuade her to remove to the back-yard.
Fighting Billy proved by no means so companionable as chicky: within the
first week he had fought, single-handed, every rooster in the
neighborhood, and the second week he staggered about the yard with his
"peepers" closed, and showing general marks of severe punishment, from
the effects of which he died, in spite of aught we could do for his
relief.
But our "happy family" was broken up, after awhile: the captain was
"called to the wars," and, in spite of all I could say, took Kitty with
him, as the "most reliable horse." Kitty never returned; and I spent one
whole day, during the captain's first visit home, in saying: "I told you
so," and crying over Kitty's loss. Next, Tiny was stolen; and Dick went
the way of most all "good dogs"--with our servant-girl's
butcher-beau--at whose house I saw him, shortly after Babette's
marriage, together with sundry lace-collars, table-cloths, and
napkin-rings that had mysteriously left the house about the same time
with her. Chicky disappeared the night before Thanksgiving day: perhaps
they couldn't get any turkey to give thanks for, and contented
themselves with a chicken.
When the captain next came home, he found nothing but a squirrel--but
this squirrel was the greatest pet I had yet found. I came by it in this
way: two small, ragged boys pulled the bell one day, and, seeing a
little wooden cage in their hands, I went to the door immediately
myself. How the little wretches knew of my silly propensity for
collecting all vagabond, half-starved animals, I don't know; but they
showed me a scraggy little squirrel in the cage, and said, with the
utmost confidence, they wanted to sell it to me.
"How much do you want for it?" I asked.
"Two dollars," said the oldest, at a venture, and then opened his eyes
in astonishment, as much at his own audacity as at my silence--which
seemed to imply assent to his extortion.
You see, I had opened the cage, and bunny had slipped out, scrambled up
on my arm, and lodged himself close around my neck, where he lay with
his little head tucked under my chin. How could I let the little thing
go? So I gave the boy his two dollars, for which he generously offered
to leave the cage, which offer I declined, intending to make a
house-dog of bunny. The sagacity, gentleness, and playfulness of little
Fritz are beyond all description; though his bump of destructiveness, I
must acknowledge, was also very largely developed. He was still young,
and I could keep him on a window-sill quite safely, till I felt sure of
his attachment to me, and his disinclination to make his escape. The
window-sill and the open window remained his favorite post to the end of
his life; though when he grew older, he would occasionally jump from my
bed-room window, in the second story, to the grass and flower-beds
below. He had not been in the house more than a week before he followed
me about like a dog, and took his place close by me at the table, eating
and drinking anything I had a mind to offer him. He drank coffee out of
a cup, and ate the meat I gave him--holding it in his paws, as little
children hold a strip of meat in their hands--nibbling and sucking it,
with great gusto.
I cannot conceal that the wood work, the furniture, and all the books,
throughout the house, soon displayed ragged edges and torn surfaces; and
mother (who had taken up her abode with us), who punished Fritz for his
depredations sometimes, was held in high disfavor by him, in
consequence. When I was not at home, he would hardly allow her to touch
him, and would hide under the pillows on my bed, at her approach,
barking and scolding with great vehemence. To me he never said an
"unkind word;" on the contrary, I could hardly secure myself from his
caresses. Sometimes I would place him on the top of a tall cupboard, or
high wardrobe, to get him away from under my feet; but the moment I
passed anywhere within reaching-distance, he would fly down on me, and,
settling on my hand, face, or shoulder, would fall to licking my face,
and nibbling at my ears and nose, to assure me of his favor. I fear I
have slapped him more than once for marking my face with his little
sharp claws, when making one of these sudden descents. At night, he
slept under my pillow; and early in the morning he would creep out,
nibble at my eyelids, and switch me with his bushy tail. Without opening
my eyes, I would reach out for a handful of nuts--opened and placed
within reach the night before--and with these he would amuse himself for
a long while, always cleaning his face and paws after disposing of his
first breakfast. With sundown he went to sleep; but, of warm nights,
when I went to bed late, I would carry his little drinking-cup to him,
filled with ice-water. Half asleep, sometimes with his eyes closed, he
would take a long drink; but never once, of all those nights, did he
return to his pillow without first gratefully passing his little tongue
over the hand that held him. That he knew it was my hand, I am quite
certain; for if the captain ever attempted to touch him, in the middle
of the night, when Fritz was ever so sound asleep, he would immediately
start up with a snarl, and snap at the captain's fingers; whereas, if I
thrust my hand under the pillow, in the dead of night, he would lick it,
and rub his nose against it.
With nothing but a little basket to carry him in, I took him with me for
a journey, on a Mississippi steamer. I left him in the basket, while
looking after my baggage; but when I returned to my state-room, he
suddenly jumped on my head from above, having eaten his way out, through
the lid of the basket, and climbed to the top-berth. The stewardess on
the steamer tried to steal him, when near port, but Fritz had made such
good use of his sharp claws and teeth that she was fain to own: "She had
on'y wanted to _tech_ the lilly bunny--hadn't wanted to hurt'm, 'tall."
It makes me sad, even now, to think of the closing scene of Fritz's
short, but, let me hope, happy life. Once a lady, the mother of a
terrible little boy, had come to spend the day with us; and I soon
discovered that either Fritz or the little boy must be caged "up and
away." So, pretending to be afraid that the boy might get hurt, but in
reality fearing only for Fritz's welfare, I carried the squirrel up into
the lumber-room, where I brought to him nuts without number, apples,
sugar, crackers, and water to bathe in and drink from. There was a pane
broken out of the window-sash, but this I covered with a piece of
paste-board, and then went down to entertain the lady and her detestable
little boy. Seated at the window, not long after, I saw an urchin come
running around the next corner, and, when barely within speaking
distance, he shouted at the top of his voice: "Say, Missis, they's got
him, 'round here in the cooper-yard, and he's dead--the squirrel!" he
added, in explanation.
Though by no means in a toilet representing a "street-dress"--in fact,
with only one slipper on--I started off on a run, and never stopped till
my youthful mentor pointed to a circle of men and boys, gathered around
an object lying on the ground. It was Fritz, writhing in the last
agonies of death, while the boys were calling each other's attention to
the contortions of the poor little body. In a moment, I was among them,
had lifted Fritz in my arms, and held him to my face.
"Who did that?" I asked, with pain and anger struggling in my heart;
"which of you little brutes killed the poor, harmless thing?"
The little ragamuffin who had led me to the spot, pointed to two boys
making ineffectual attempts to hide a long stick, they were carrying,
behind them.
"They was a-hitting 'm like fury, and then I runned to tell you; please,
Missis, gimme a dime."
Poor little Fritz! He knew me, even in the death-struggle; for he passed
his tongue over my hand once more, just before the last convulsive
shudder ran through his body, and his little limbs grew stiff and cold.
I don't feel, in the least, ashamed to own that I cried--cried many
tears--cried bitterly; and I felt dreadfully lonesome when I woke up at
night, and, from the sheer force of habit, put my hand under my pillow
without finding Fritz there. I made a vow then never to have any more
pets; but it was a rash one.
Some years later, when the war was over, the "theatre of our life" was
to be shifted from the crowded, populous city to the lonely wilds of the
frontier country. When we reached Fort Leavenworth, the quarters in the
barracks were all occupied, and a number of our officers were assigned
quarters in the Attaché Barracks. The captain had decided to purchase a
horse from the government stables, and turn him over to me for
saddle-use, as I did not want to go to our frontier-post without a horse
of my own to depend on. It was in June; and the little square yards in
front of the Attaché Barracks were fresh and sweet with grass and
blossoming red clover. The door of our quarters stood open; the captain
had gone out, and I was startled by a knock on the door-post. Looking
up, I saw the head of an orderly appearing at the door; but, poking over
his head, I saw that of a horse evidently taking a strict inventory of
everything in the room. Of course, I was at the door, and on the horse's
neck, in the course of a very few seconds, for, from the orderly, I soon
understood that the captain had sent the horse for me to look at.
Colonel L----, with his two little girls, came up just then, and, as we
were all going in the same command, the acquisition of a horse for the
march had an interest for all parties. Together, we surrounded and
admired the beautiful white animal; and the two little girls and myself
were soon braiding clover-blossoms into Toby's tail, and trimming his
head and neck with garlands of butter-cups--operations which did not, in
the least, interfere with his good humor, or his appetite for the juicy
grass he was cropping. The captain, it seems, had already tried his
speed and mettle; he was not appraised at at any unreasonable figure,
and so Toby was mine before we took up the line of march for the Plains.
From the wagon-master I heard, later, that Toby had been captured in
Texas, during the war. He had been raised and trained by a woman who had
followed him around the country for some time, trying to get her pet
back again; but Uncle Sam, no doubt, had the best right to him, and he
was placed in the stables of the Fitting-out Depot. One thing certainly
spoke for the truth of the story: whenever Toby had been let loose and
refused to be tied up again, he would always allow me to come up to him,
when he would turn and throw up his heels at the approach of a man.
Toby was soon a universal favorite and proved himself worthy of the
preference, though he had one or two tricks about him that were by no
means commendable. First: he was an inveterate thief; and then--at times
when he was not ridden, but led along by the orderly--he had a mean way
of lying back and letting the other horse pull him along, that fairly
exasperated me. His thefts, however, were always carried out in such a
cunning manner that I readily forgave the sin for the sake of the skill.
We had not been long on the march when Toby perpetrated his first
robbery. The captain rode him, and when the command halted for lunch, he
would come up to our ambulance, dismount, and let Toby go perfectly
free--for we had soon found that he would not stray from the command.
Toby learned to know the contents and appliances of lunch-baskets very
soon, particularly as he received his portion from ours regularly every
day. One day, after having dispatched his bread-and-butter and lump of
sugar in the neighborhood of our ambulance, he walked over to Colonel
L----'s, and while Mrs. L---- was leaning out on the other side,
speaking to the colonel, Toby quietly lifted the lunch-basket from her
lap, deposited it on the grass, overturned it, and helped himself to the
contents. Unfortunately for Toby, Mrs. L---- had spread mustard on her
ham-sandwiches, and the sneezing and coughing of the erring horse first
called her attention to his presence, and the absence of her
lunch-basket.