At one time in Fourteenth Street, I had a troop of educated dogs; one
of their acts was in the nature of a mock trial. One dog, a very little
fellow, steals a collar of another. A trial takes place, in which there
are judge, and jury advocates. The little culprit is convicted and
condemned to be hung--which the dogs proceed to do. The little fellow
is hung and drops apparently dead, is placed in a hearse and rolled
away to the music of the "Dead March." Several complaints were made
against this by citizens and kind-hearted women; and Professor Bergh,
president of the Humane Society, came to me about it. I had the
performance repeated for his benefit, and further said that it had been
repeated twice a day for several months. After the professor saw that
the dogs enjoyed it, he laughed and said no more about it, and nothing
more was heard from the Humane Society.
I have seen many acts done by dogs; and, as a rule, there is nothing to
appeal to their intelligence; but in this case they certainly showed
reasoning powers. I wish space would permit me to give my experience
with the canine family. A short time before I left the show business I
heard of a dog in California that could talk. I sent for the owner,
Professor Madden, and bargained for this dog. When he reached Chicago I
found he could actually say, "Oh, no." Sometimes it was easier for him
to speak than at others, and invariably he would have some trouble in
talking the first time.
Of all the dumb creatures the dog is by far the most faithful to his
master, and it is said to be the only animal that has ever died of
grief on his master's grave.