"A cousin of one of my brother-officers was taking a walk at Tunbridge
Wells, when a strange Newfoundland snatched her parasol from her hand,
and carried it off. The lady followed the dog, who kept ahead,
constantly looking back to see if she followed. The dog at length
stopped at a confectioner's, and went in, followed by the lady, who,
as the dog would not resign it, applied to the shopman for assistance.
He then told her that it was an old trick of the dog's to get a bun,
and that if she would give him one he would return the property. She
cheerfully did so, and the dog as willingly made the exchange."
The above anecdote proves that dogs are no mean observers of
countenances, and that he had satisfied himself by a previous scrutiny
as to the probability of his delinquencies being forgiven.
Of the abstinence and escape of a dog, the following narrative may not
be uninteresting:--
In 1789, when preparations were making at St. Paul's for the reception
of his majesty, a favourite dog followed its master up the dark stairs
of the dome. Here, all at once, it was missing; and calling and
whistling were to no purpose. Nine weeks after this, all but two days,
some glaziers were at work in the cathedral, and heard a faint noise
amongst the timbers which support the dome. Thinking it might be some
unfortunate human being, they tied a rope round a boy, and let him
down near the place whence the sound came. At the bottom he found a
dog lying on its side, the skeleton of another dog, and an old shoe
half eaten. The humanity of the boy led him to rescue the animal from
its miserable situation, and it was accordingly drawn up. Much
emaciated, and scarce able to stand, the workmen placed it in the
porch of the church, to die or live as it might happen. This was about
ten o'clock in the morning. Some time after, the dog was seen
endeavouring to cross the street at the top of Ludgate Hill; but its
weakness was so great, that, unsupported by a wall, it could not
accomplish it. The miserable appearance of the dog again excited the
compassion of a boy, who carried it over. By the aid of the houses it
was enabled to get to Fleet Market, and over two or three narrow
crossings in its way to Holborn Bridge, and about eight o'clock in the
evening it reached its master's house in Red Lion Street, Holborn, and
laid itself down on the steps, having been ten hours in its journey
from St. Paul's to that place. The dog was so much altered, its eyes
being so sunk in its head as to be scarce discernible, that the master
would not encourage his faithful old companion, who when lost was
supposed to weigh twenty pounds, but now only weighed three pounds
fourteen ounces. The first indication it gave of knowing its master
was by wagging its tail when he mentioned its name, Phillis; for a
long time it was unable to eat or drink, and it was kept alive by the
sustenance it received from its mistress, who used to feed it with a
teaspoon. At length it recovered. It must not be supposed that this
animal existed for nine weeks without food; she was in whelp when
lost, and doubtless ate her young. The remains of another dog, killed
by a similar fall, were likewise found, and were most probably
converted by the survivor to the most urgent of all natural purposes;
and when this treat was done, the shoe succeeded, which was almost
half devoured. What famine and a thousand accidents could not do, was
effected a short time after by the wheels of a coach, which
unfortunately went over her, and ended the life of poor Phillis.
Of dogs that have supported themselves in a wild state, to the great
loss and annoyance of the farmer, there are two instances worthy of
notice, from the cunning with which both these dogs frustrated, for a
length of time, every secret and open attack. In December, 1784, a dog
was left by a smuggling vessel near Boomer, on the coast of
Northumberland. Finding himself deserted, he began to worry sheep, and
did so much damage that he was the terror of the country, within the
circuit of above twenty miles. It is asserted, that when he caught a
sheep, he bit a hole in its right side, and after eating the fat about
the kidneys, left it. Several of them, thus lacerated, were found
alive by the shepherds; and being properly taken care of, some of them
recovered, and afterwards had lambs. From this delicacy of his
feeding, the destruction may in some measure be conceived, as the fat
of one sheep in a day would scarcely satisfy his hunger. Various were
the means used to destroy him: frequently was he pursued with hounds,
greyhounds, &c., but when the dogs came up with him, he laid down on
his back, as if supplicating for mercy, and in that position they
never hurt him; he therefore laid quietly, taking his rest, until the
hunters approached, when he made off without being followed by the
hounds, until they were again excited to the pursuit, which always
terminated unsuccessfully. He was one day pursued from Howick to
upwards of thirty miles' distance, but returned thither and killed
sheep the same evening. His constant residence was upon a rock on the
Heugh Hill, near Howick, where he had a view of four roads that
approached it; and there, in March 1785, after many fruitless
attempts, he was at last shot.
Another wild dog, which had committed similar devastation among the
sheep, near Wooler, in the same county (Northumberland), was, on the
6th of June, 1799, advertised to be hunted on the Wednesday following,
by three packs of hounds, which were to meet at different places; the
aid of men and fire-arms was also requested, with a reward promised of
twenty guineas to the person killing him. This dog was described by
those who had seen him at a distance as a large greyhound, with some
white in his face, neck and one fore-leg white, rather grey on the
back, and the rest of a jet-black. An immense concourse of people
assembled at the time appointed, but the chase was unprosperous; for
he eluded his pursuers among the Cheviot Hills, and, what is singular,
returned that same night to the place from whence he had been hunted
in the morning, and worried an ewe and her lamb. During the whole
summer he continued to destroy the sheep, but changed his quarters,
for he infested the fells, sixteen miles south of Carlisle, where
upwards of sixty sheep fell victims to his ferocity. In September,
hounds and firearms were again employed against him, and after a run
from Carrock Fell, which was computed to be thirty miles, he was shot
whilst the hounds were in pursuit by Mr. Sewel of Wedlock, who laid in
ambush at Moss Dale. During the chase, which occupied six hours, he
frequently turned upon the headmost hounds, and wounded several so
badly as to disable them. Upon examination, he appeared of the
Newfoundland breed, of a common size, wire-haired, and extremely lean.
This description does not tally with the dog so injurious to the
farmers in Northumberland, although, from circumstances, there is
little doubt but it was the same animal.
With a laughably philosophical account of dogs, under the supposition
of a transmigration of souls, and with their general natural history
from Linnaeus and Buffon, this introductory chapter will be concluded.
A facetious believer in the art of distinguishing at the sight of any
creature from what class of animals his soul is derived, thus allots
them:--
The souls of deceased bailiffs and common constables are in the
bodies of setting dogs and pointers; the terriers are inhabited by
trading justices; the bloodhounds were formerly a set of informers,
thief-takers, and false evidences; the spaniels were heretofore
courtiers, hangers-on of administrations, and hack journal-writers,
all of whom preserve their primitive qualities of fawning on their
feeders, licking their hands, and snarling and snapping at all who
offer to offend their master; a former train of gamblers and
black-legs are now embodied in that species of dog called lurchers;
bull-dogs and mastiffs were once butchers and drovers; greyhounds and
hounds owe their animation to country squires and foxhunters; little
whiffling, useless lap-dogs, draw their existence from the quondam
beau; macaronies, and gentlemen of the tippy, still being the
playthings of ladies, and used for their diversion. There are also a
set of sad dogs derived from attornies; and puppies, who were in past
time attornies' clerks, shopmen to retail haberdashers, men-milliners,
&c. &c. Turnspits are animated by old aldermen, who still enjoy the
smell of the roast meat; that droning, snarling species, styled Dutch
pugs, have been fellows of colleges; and that faithful, useful tribe
of shepherds' dogs, were, in days of yore, members of parliament, who
guarded the flock, and protected the sheep from wolves and thieves,
although indeed of late some have turned sheep-biters, and worried
those they ought to have defended.
Linnaeus informs us, the dog eats flesh, and farinaceous vegetables,
but not greens, (this is a mistake, for they will eat greens when
boiled); its stomach digests bones; it uses the tops of grass as a
vomit; is fond of rolling in carrion; voids its excrements on a stone;
its dung (the _album graecum_) is one of the greatest encouragers of
putrefaction; it laps up its drink with its tongue; makes water
side-ways, by lifting up one of its hind-legs; is most diuretic in the
company of a strange dog, and very apt to repeat it where another dog
has done the same: _Odorat anum alterius, menstruans catulit cum
variis; mordet illa illos; cohaeret copula junctus_. Its scent is most
exquisite when its nose is moist; it treads lightly on its toes;
scarce ever sweats, but when hot, lolls out its tongue; generally
walks frequently round the place it intends to lie down on; its sense
of hearing is very quick when asleep; it dreams. It goes with young
sixty-three days, and commonly brings from four to ten; the male
puppies resemble the dog, the female the bitch (an assertion by no
means accurate, any more than the tail always bending to the left is a
common character of the species). It is the most faithful of animals,
is very docile, fawns at his master's approach, runs before him on a
journey, often passing over the same ground; on coming to crossways,
stops and looks back; drives cattle home from the field; keeps herds
and flocks within bounds, protects them from wild beasts; points out
to the sportsman the game; brings the birds that are shot to its
master; will turn a spit; at Brussels, and in Holland, draws little
carts to the herb-market; in more northern regions, draws sledges with
provisions, travellers, &c.; will find out what is dropped; watchful
by night, and when the charge of a house or garden is at such times
committed to him, his boldness increases, and he sometimes becomes
perfectly ferocious; when it has been guilty of a theft, slinks away
with its tail between its legs; eats voraciously, with oblique eyes;
enemy to beggars; attacks strangers without provocation; hates strange
dogs; howls at certain notes in music, and often urines on hearing
them; will snap at a stone thrown at it; is sick at the approach of
bad weather, (a remark vague and uncertain); is afflicted with worms;
spreads its madness; grows blind with age; _saepe gonorrhaea infectus_;
driven as unclean from the houses of the Mahometans; yet the same
people establish hospitals for, and allow them daily food.
The dog, says Buffon, like every other animal which produces above one
or two at a time, is not perfectly formed immediately after birth.
Dogs are always brought forth blind; the two eyelids are not simply
glued together, but shut up with a membrane, which is torn off, as
soon as the muscles of the upper eyelids acquire strength sufficient
to overcome this obstacle to vision, which generally happens the tenth
or twelfth day. At this period, the bones of the head are not
completed, the body and muzzle are bloated, and the whole figure is
ill defined; but in less than two months, they learn to use all their
senses; their growth is rapid, and they soon gain strength. In the
fourth month, they lose some of their teeth, which, as in other
animals, are soon replaced, and never again fall out: they have six
cutting and two canine teeth in each jaw, and fourteen grinders in the
upper, and twelve in the under, making in all forty-two teeth; but the
number of grinders sometimes varies in particular dogs.
The time of gestation is nine weeks, or sixty-three days; sometimes
sixty-two or sixty-one, but never less than sixty.
The bitch produces six, seven, and even so far as twelve puppies, and
generally has more at the subsequent litters than she has at the
first; but the observation of Buffon, that a female hound, covered by
a dog of her own kind, and carefully shut up from all others, has been
known to produce a mixed race, consisting of hounds and terriers, is
totally void of foundation. A curious circumstance, in the account of
the setter, will be mentioned, of an impression made upon the mind of
a bitch of that sort by the attention of a cur, which never had access
to her, and yet her whelps were always like him, and possibly this
hound bitch had a violent hankering after some terrier.
Dogs continue to propagate during life, which is commonly limited to
fourteen or fifteen years, yet some have been known to exceed twenty,
but that is rare. The duration of life in this, as in other animals,
bears proportion to the time of his growth, which in the dog is not
completed in less than two years, and he generally lives fourteen. His
age may be discovered by his teeth; when young, they are white, sharp,
and pointed; as he increases in years, they become black, blunt, and
unequal: it may likewise be known by the hair, which turns grey on the
muzzle, front, and round the eyes.
The manner in which the shepherds of the Pyrenees employ their
peculiar breed of dogs, which are large, long-haired, of a tawny white
colour, and a very strong build, with a ferocious temper, exhibits a
vivid instance of the trust they repose in the courage and fidelity of
these animals, and of the virtues by which they merit and reward it.
Attended by three or more dogs, the shepherds will take their numerous
flocks at early dawn to the part of the mountain side which is
destined for their pasture. Having counted them, they descend to
follow other occupations, and commit the guardianship of the sheep to
the sole watchfulness of the dogs. It has been frequently known, that
when wolves have approached, the three sentinels would walk round and
round the flock, gradually compressing them into so small a circle
that one dog might with ease overlook and protect them, and that this
measure of caution being executed, the remaining two would set forth
to engage the enemy, over whom, it is said, they invariably triumph.