Gyp, the garbage man’s dog, was next. He was somewhat sullen, having
seen life on its seamy side, and he was as full of experiences as an
egg is of meat.
As has been previously related, he disliked all phases of the law,
and wasn’t enjoying this court scene very much. However, a few more
experiences would make little difference in his checkered life.
When he gave his name and address, he was asked if he had ever been
in court before, to which he made the humiliating reply that he had,
though he was not to blame for it. As Judges in general do not care
to listen to excuses about the past, there was no chance for an
explanation. Because this was not his first offense, and because he
came from the lower ranks of life, although he had good blood; for he
was a shepherd dog, and shepherd dogs are related to the great collie
family, aristocrats in dogdom. But poor Gyp, being seen daily under the
garbage wagon, was looked upon as a suspicious character.
Now Gyp was not deserving of this opinion from any one. He was as
honest and faithful as any of them. More temptation had been thrown in
his way, and he had been able to withstand it better than some weaker
ones. He would not lie, would not steal nor cheat. But he would fight.
And it was due to this failing that he had a story to tell. We will
leave it to you, dear reader, to decide if he was not justified at
least in this one case.
Gyp said he hoped that all dogs were now taking this course in “higher
standards of living.” If they did, there might be no further occasion
for his having to use his implements of warfare. Nevertheless, he would
keep his teeth in good condition, and his claws well whetted. In fact,
he thought preparedness was the best policy for all dogs. They need not
actually fight, but just threaten to scrap if other dogs disregarded
their rights.
His story was a thrilling one about mistaken identity, and the
innocent having to suffer for the sins of others. His master was his
idol. For him, Gyp would die if necessary. Neither he nor his master
had always been just what they were now, for both had seen better times.
One dark night a crime was committed. Gyp’s master, though not guilty,
was caught in the meshes of the police dragnet instead of the real
culprit, and he was taken to jail to await trial for the crime some one
else had committed.
When he failed to return in the morning, Gyp started out to find him.
Taking up the trail, he found it led to the jail. Of course he was not
allowed in the building, but he hung around, leaving only at night and
when he was hungry. At night he had to return home to keep watch over
the little boy and his mother. It was his job to take care of them, now
that his master was gone.
Gyp had a double responsibility. The wife and little boy must be
protected, and he must be on hand at the jail should a need come for
him there. With all of this worry, he was growing very thin. Also
he did not have enough to eat, for not many luxuries in the way of
meat were brought into the little home now, and he was too busy just
watching, to hunt for stray bones and things like that.
At last the day of the trial came, and his master was taken from the
jail across the courtyard to the room where the hearing was to be held.
That was Gyp’s opportunity. Following the crowd into the court room,
he slipped in before any one knew he was there. Waiting his chance, he
edged his way to where his master was and lay down at his feet. He was
hoping he would be allowed to stay right through to the end; but he
was disappointed, for hardly had he settled himself when some one took
hold of his collar and roughly dragged him out, giving him a kick. Just
who was the _dumb brute_ in this case? That was the last he saw of his
beloved master for some time. Do you wonder Gyp did not like courts and
trials?
He returned home, for now he must devote his whole time to the family.
The little boy must be protected when he went to the corner grocery.
Gyp would not permit another dog to come near the child. It was at this
time that the dog’s fighting blood rose. He would go ahead of the boy
when he was crossing the street, and the kindly traffic officer, being
their friend, would hold back the crowd until they were over.
One day, after having piloted his little charge safely home, Gyp took a
walk down the street past some fine houses where a small dog was lying
on a nice lawn. He saw a big hound dog come from another direction and
go up to the small dog, sniffing and mumbling a war-growl. Gyp stopped
to see what would happen. Presently something that gave offense to the
small dog passed between the two, and he set his teeth in the left hind
leg of the big dog. Then the trouble started. Seeing the small dog
was getting the worst of it, Gyp entered the fray, letting the little
fellow out of it, and he and the hound rolled over and over on those
fine flower beds.
The ladies who lived in the house were screaming over the phone to
police headquarters. But in their nervousness they succeeded only
in making the chief believe some one was being killed. At once that
official dispatched the police wagon. It came, bringing along with the
police a newspaper reporter who wanted to get _first_ news for his
paper. All were disappointed. As the hound had sneaked off, Gyp was
left to bear the entire blame. The police summoned the dog catcher.
The only protector of the little family around the corner was about to
be taken away, when who should appear but the friendly traffic officer,
who knew Gyp and came to his rescue. He testified to the dog’s good
character and vouched for his keeping the peace. After being patted
on the head and admonished by his friend “to be a good dog,” Gyp was
allowed to go back to his post of duty--watching the little family.
Time dragged around to Christmas. Then the governor learned that a
mistake had been made in the case of Gyp’s master. The master was
released from prison and permitted to go home.
It was a joyous holiday for them all. The judge who had tried the case,
desiring to make amends for the error, offered to help the good master
to get work in the city’s garbage disposal division. But the poor
fellow was so humiliated, and his health so broken, that he decided
to go to a warmer climate, where he could be out in the sunshine and
regain his strength.
The judge, feeling that an injustice had been done the man, wrote to
the mayor of this southern town where Gyp and his master had gone. This
recommendation caused the master to be put on the pay roll, so the
faithful dog and his beloved owner were now partners in this business
of gathering the waste of the city.
It was through those friendly little dachshunds that Gyp had become
involved in this mess. Now, however, there seemed to be a better
feeling established among all of them, and the story which Gyp told
them had the effect of enlisting their sympathy and admiration, so
that things looked brighter for him.
Presently Gyp was not “only the garbage man’s dog.” He was counted a
real hero by the better class of dogs, and if they were free to follow
their own natural inclinations, they would be real friendly with him;
but there were their owners to contend with, and for their amusement,
they would, they supposed, have to go on suppressing their good
impulses. At any rate, all of them promised themselves that they would
speak to Gyp when no one was watching them. Yes, they would even go out
to the garbage wagon when they could, and they would not feel “uppish”
toward him any more.