I
It was dusk on Hallowe'en when first I saw him. Early in the morning I
had received a telegram from my college chum Jack: "Lest we forget. Am
sending you a remarkable pup. Be polite to him; it's safer." It would
have been just like Jack to have sent an infernal machine or a Skunk
rampant and called it a pup, so I awaited the hamper with curiosity.
When it arrived I saw it was marked "Dangerous," and there came from
within a high-pitched snarl at every slight provocation. On peering
through the wire netting I saw it was not a baby Tiger but a small
white Bull-terrier. He snapped at me and at any one or anything that
seemed too abrupt or too near for proper respect, and his snarling
growl was unpleasantly frequent. Dogs have two growls: one
deep-rumbled, and chesty; that is polite warning--the retort courteous;
the other mouthy and much higher in pitch: this is the last word before
actual onslaught. The Terrier's growls were all of the latter kind. I
was a dog-man and thought I knew all about Dogs, so, dismissing the
porter, I got out my all-round
jackknife--toothpick--nailhammer-hatchet-toolbox-fire-shovel, a
specialty of our firm, and lifted the netting. Oh, yes, I knew all
about Dogs. The little fury had been growling out a whole-souled growl
for every tap of the tool, and when I turned the box on its side, he
made a dash straight for my legs. Had not his foot gone through the
wire netting and held him, I might have been hurt, for his heart was
evidently in his work; but I stepped on the table out of reach and
tried to reason with him. I have always believed in talking to animals.
I maintain that they gather something of our intention at least, even
if they do not understand our words; but the Dog evidently put me down
for a hypocrite and scorned my approaches. At first he took his post
under the table and kept up a circular watch for a leg trying to get
down. I felt sure I could have controlled him with my eye, but I could
not bring it to bear where I was, or rather where he was; thus I was
left a prisoner. I am a very cool person, I flatter myself; in fact, I
represent a hardware firm, and, in coolness, we are not excelled by any
but perhaps the nosy gentlemen that sell wearing-apparel. I got out a
cigar and smoked tailor-style on the table, while my little tyrant
below kept watch for legs. I got out the telegram and read it:
"Remarkable pup. Be polite to him; it's safer." I think it was my
coolness rather than my politeness that did it, for in half an hour the
growling ceased. In an hour he no longer jumped at a newspaper
cautiously pushed over the edge to test his humor; possibly the
irritation of the cage was wearing off, and by the time I had lit my
third cigar, he waddled out to the fire and lay down; not ignoring me,
however, I had no reason to complain of that kind of contempt. He kept
one eye on me, and I kept both eyes, not on him, but on his stumpy
tail. If that tail should swing sidewise once I should feel I was
winning; but it did not swing. I got a book and put in time on that
table till my legs were cramped and the fire burned low. About 10 P.M.
it was chilly, and at half-past ten the fire was out. My Hallowe'en
present got up, yawned and stretched, then walked under my bed, where
he found a fur rug. By stepping lightly from the table to the dresser,
and then on to the mantel-shelf, I also reached bed, and, very quietly
undressing, got in without provoking any criticism from my master. I
had not yet fallen asleep when I heard a slight scrambling and felt
"thump-thump" on the bed, then over my feet and legs; Snap evidently
had found it too cool down below, and proposed to have the best my
house afforded.
He curled up on my feet in such a way that I was very uncomfortable and
tried to readjust matters, but the slightest wriggle of my toe was
enough to make him snap at it so fiercely that nothing but thick
woollen bedclothes saved me from being maimed for life.
I was an hour moving my feet--a hair's-breadth at a time--till they
were so that I could sleep in comfort; and I was awakened several times
during the night by angry snarls from the Dog--I suppose because I
dared to move a toe without his approval, though once I believe he did
it simply because I was snoring.
In the morning I was ready to get up before Snap was. You see, I call
him Snap-Ginger-snap in full. Some Dogs are hard to name, and some do
not seem to need it--they name themselves.
I was ready to rise at seven. Snap was not ready till eight, so we rose
at eight. He had little to say to the man who made the fire. He allowed
me to dress without doing it on the table. As I left the room to get
breakfast, I remarked:
"Snap, my friend, some men would whip you into a different way, but I
think I know a better plan. The doctors nowadays favor the
'no-breakfast cure.' I shall try that."
It seemed cruel, but I left him without food all day. It cost me
something to repaint the door where he scratched it, but at night he
was quite ready to accept a little food at my hands.
In a week we were very good friends. He would sleep on my bed now and
allow me to move my feet without snapping at them, intent to do me
serious bodily harm. The no-breakfast cure had worked wonders; in three
months we were--well, simply man and Dog, and he amply justified the
telegram he came with.
He seemed to be without fear. If a small Dog came near, he would take
not the slightest notice; if a medium-sized Dog, he would stick his
stub of a tail rigidly up in the air, then walk around him, scratching
contemptuously with his hind feet, and looking at the sky, the
distance, the ground, anything but the Dog, and noting his presence
only by frequent high-pitched growls. If the stranger did not move on
at once, the battle began, and then the stranger usually moved on very
rapidly. Snap sometimes got worsted, but no amount of sad experience
could ever inspire him with a grain of caution. Once, while riding in a
cab during the Dog Show, Snap caught sight of an elephantine St.
Bernard taking an airing. Its size aroused such enthusiasm in the Pup's
little breast that he leaped from the cab window to do battle, and
broke his leg.
Evidently fear had been left out of his make-up and its place supplied
with an extra amount of ginger, which was the reason of his full name.
He differed from all other Dogs I have ever known. For example, if a
boy threw a stone at him, he ran, not away, but toward the boy, and if
the crime was repeated, Snap took the law into his own hands; thus he
was at least respected by all. Only myself and the porter at the office
seemed to realize his good points, and we only were admitted to the
high honor of personal friendship, an honor which I appreciated more as
months went on, and by midsummer not Carnegie, Vanderbilt, and Astor
together could have raised money enough to buy a quarter of a share in
my little Dog Snap.