With some misgivings, therefore, Bob approached his father on this
subject. He decided he would wait until he was sure his dad was in a
happy mood. After the noonday meal, when they were both comfortably
full, and Judge had had his nap, was the most likely time. Then,
cautiously, Bob broached the matter of his wounded pride. Having no
mother to smooth the way for him, Bob was at the mercy of his father’s
candor. Judge, realizing this fact, became interested in learning about
the case.
He inquired as to how many families were acquainted with the story,
and how much had really been said about the personal appearance of
his offspring. This was a delicate subject, as there was a strong
resemblance between father and son. Just how far into the family
records had Pixie delved? Of course, no one in this neighborhood
knew of the family skeleton. That was safe. Bob was very brief about
his part in the encounter. He mentioned nothing about his terrible
bow-wows, which had so frightened the pert Pom that she had turned pale
under her heavy coat.
Judge, rubbing his chin with his ponderous paw, said, “I will take
up the case, but I will defer a decision until more evidence can be
procured. Meantime I will investigate.”
In the interval each of the dogs that knew about the affair related
it to every other dog they met. It was discussed not only in the best
families, but the garbage man’s dog heard of it, and he told it to the
laundress’s yellow mongrel, who met the milkman’s shepherd collie. As
the latter traveled around town, and was an excellent reporter, the
news spread and the story grew and grew, until the owners of the dogs
were also involved. When at last it came to their ears, they were
puzzled to know what it was all about.
Judge, hearing about how the news of this little affair had grown until
it was called a scandal, decided he must act quickly to settle the
wagging of those busybodies’ tongues. He would hold a session and call
the whole neighborhood of dogs into court. The police dog was to summon
them. Each one that had a share in this matter, regardless of what was
his standing in society, must appear before him to be punished.
It was an outrage that a dog of Judge’s high standing should be so
maligned, for at last the story had grown until it was unsavory, and a
great injustice had been done to the father of such a promising son.
Summoning the German police dog, Judge made a list of those who were
responsible for the wide spread of the story. Among these were Ruby,
the pug, Petite, the white French poodle, and those to whom they had
told the interesting bit of news.
In their set was an English bulldog named Bill, who was a distant
relative on the terrier side of the Airedale family. Bill felt that it
would be disloyal not to support the Airedales in their contention,
especially as the matter had been laid before him by Ruby, who gave her
own version of it, adding as much local color as she could.
Bill, in turn, told a friend, a Boston bull, and so it went. Among
their select set, everyone who repeated the tale added something to it.
It was left to dear little Petite, the fluffy French poodle, who always
wore white, to defend the little Pom. With tears in her eyes, Petite
told all her friends how that “impossible Airedale pup had insulted
her dear friend, Pixie.” She wept on the shoulder of a stately Russian
wolfhound, named Princess, who had been “over” only a short time, and
who was bewildered by Petite’s show of emotion. For some time indeed
Princess was unable to understand what it all meant.
[Illustration: Petite and Princess]
Expressing her indignation in a dignified and charming way at the
effrontery of the Airedale, the Princess promised to call on the little
Pom and extend her sympathy. She passed the sad news on to a water
spaniel, who just then emerged from the drinking fountain basin, where
he had been taking a bath. Although he shook the water from his wet
coat all over her, which at another time would have been good cause for
a show of temper, even from a lady dog of noble birth, she passed it by
unnoticed, so eager was she to enlist all her friends in Pixie’s cause.
On up the street these two went to where lived two squatty little
dachshunds, whose ancestors, like Pixie’s, were real warriors. It was
said of them that they attacked badgers, an action requiring great
courage. They too had a friendly feeling for Pixie; and then the
Princess was so sweet in her manner and so eager to clear her little
friend’s name of any suspicion, they could not resist her, even though
they saw that the chances of the Airedale were growing slim, and that
it was scarcely fair for all of his friends to turn against him.
It was through these little, sociable dachshunds that the story spread
to the other element of society in dogdom. The garbage man’s dog, Gyp,
who always accompanied his master on his collection trips, was a good
watchdog. He was watching the empty cans while his master stopped
to chat with the laundress. He had his hands full with the dogs who
pestered him for a chance at the tidbits left in the cans. Finally,
Gyp, being of a practical turn of mind, began bartering with the
dogs for an exchange, just as boys do. The dachshunds had something
desirable in this story they had heard, and promised they would give
the details as an after-dinner speech, if they could come to terms,
which they did.
While they were delivering the purchase price of their lunch, the
laundress’s yellow mongrel listened in. Gyp was emphatically against
the Airedale. Once Gyp had fallen into the hands of the law, and had
almost been taken to the dog pound, so he was bitter against law, and
everyone connected with it. This, of course, included the Judge.
[Illustration: Gyp and the Dachshunds]
Such was not the feeling of the little yellow mongrel, who was of no
particular breed. He was just plain dog, and did not mind it one bit if
he was. His mistress gave the Judge two days of her time every week,
and he knew the Airedale quite well. The Judge’s folks had been kind
to him, giving him many meaty bones after dinner. Sometimes the boys
played with him, too, in the back yard, where it was nice and private.
The fence was so high no one could see them. For all of this, he was
most grateful, and intended to stand by the Judge. He was not going to
say anything about it to anyone, except the milkman’s dog, and he must
promise not to repeat the story. Anyway, he lived away on the other
side of town, where they would probably not be interested.
This is how this contention, which, in its beginning was just a
misunderstanding between two inoffensive dogs, grew until friendly
relations were strained to the breaking point.
Having arranged for a hearing on a certain evening, when all the dogs
were again in the park, Judge impaneled a jury. Then, upon examining
the jury, he found that not one of the members was fit to serve, as all
had gossiped about the case. There were not “twelve good dogs and true”
to be found in the town.
Because of this state of affairs, some other plan must be followed.
Judge decided that he would punish all of the worst offenders. The
principals, which meant Pixie and Bob, he would talk to privately.
Pixie no doubt by this time was very sorry and ready to apologize to
Bob.
The gossips he would attend to first. Since they were so eager to tell
stories about other dogs, he would require each of them to come, one at
a time, and tell him a true story of some brave or clever happening of
which they had heard. Perhaps there were family traditions that were
worth repeating, as in the case of Pixie and the dachshunds. It would
be a good way to train their minds, and to teach them to look for the
good and to ignore the bad in all dogs. Besides, it would keep them
busy. As their outings were limited to about two hours each day, it
would be possible for them to hear no more than one long, or, possibly,
several short stories each time.
The police dog, being next in importance to the Judge, was required
to begin this series of punishment. The Judge, after the class in
story-telling had paid the penalty and the law was satisfied, was
to tell a very interesting story himself--one containing much human
interest and moral advice.
Although he was somewhat vain and pompous, the Judge was at heart a
good dog. He desired to raise the standard of morals in dogdom, and
knew that the only way to do that was to fill the empty heads of the
dogs with something besides gossip. A research story-telling campaign
he hoped would prove the first step toward reform.
A program was arranged. Each one was, in his or her turn, to tell
whatever story he or she knew on a given subject; or they could relate
anything of interest that had occurred in their own families. Detective
stories would be in the German police dog’s line. Also stories of
German country dogs. One very interesting story he knew about a large
Dane that could understand nothing but German.
All the dogs were so interested, and so eager to begin, that they
ran around in circles. The court session having adjourned, the police
dog escorted them out of the park, and requested that all of them be
on time promptly the next evening. A happier group of dogs passed out
of the park entrance to go their different ways. No haughty airs were
assumed by the blue-bloods. All were interested in one theme, a common
interest--the paying of a court fine, which makes all kin.
So used were the dogs in the beautiful homes on that exclusive
street to having everything done for them that they had become mere
puppets, and it required considerable effort for them to do any real
thinking. Most of them were foreign born and several had peculiar
habits, different from those of their American cousins. Although their
ancestors originally came from Europe, the latter had become true
Americans in every sense of the word, and were losing their love of
ease and indolence.
Although the owners of these blue-blooded dogs had them registered and
pedigreed, and all that, what did they really know of their families?
It was by mere accident that Pixie heard that bit of history about her
great-great-grandmother. Her mistress never spoke of the little Pom’s
past, except to mention about the dog show in London and Pixie’s having
associated with the nobility. Now that Pixie knew about her people, she
was proud that she had such plucky forbears.
The rest of the dogs, after hearing how Pixie felt about it, were
anxious to know something about their own family histories. This
story-telling campaign was going to afford them just the excuse they
wanted to get the desired information. Surely some members of their
breed had won honors for themselves somewhere or somehow. Just how
or where were they to hear of these things? Now the chance was to be
given, for every dog was to help every other dog with his story. If the
shepherd dog knew of a good story about a bull dog, he was to tell it;
but it must be such a story as the bull would be pleased to know. Then,
if the bull dog knew anything that would add to the happiness of the
shepherd, he in turn would make it known.
Satisfied with this arrangement, the dogs went diligently to work
unearthing stories.
It was early, and the Judge was on his bench under a tree at the far
corner of the park. It was a quiet place where the children, who
were playing in the sand piles or swinging, would not disturb them.
The Judge, not needing an attendant, was allowed to roam at will.
The others would have to wait to be brought, except, of course, the
middle-class dogs, who would presently come romping in.
Had the respective owners of the dogs on the beautiful street been
aware of what was taking place, in all probability they would have
tried to buy the Judge off; but this one was not that kind of a judge.
His belonging to their set would not have influenced him in the least.
Back in his own family history were some sterling qualities, chief of
which was honesty, that had descended to this offspring, and these, as
well as other admirable traits, were manifest in all of his dealings.
The dogs were assembled at last, even Pixie, who was seen trotting
along beside the Airedale pup. The police dog was keeping order and
seating the class. When the gavel, which was his left paw, fell,
everything was ready.