I must tell you one more anecdote of two dogs of a similar character to
one I gave you a few pages back, but in this instance they were
professed enemies. It happened at Donaghadee, where a pier was in
course of building.
Two dogs--one a Newfoundland, and the other a mastiff--were seen by
several people engaged in a fierce and prolonged battle on the pier.
They were both powerful dogs, and though good-natured when alone, were
much in the habit of thus fighting whenever they met. At length they
both fell into the sea, and as the pier was long and steep, they had no
means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. The cold bath
brought the combat to an end, and each began to make for the land as
best he could.
The Newfoundland dog speedily gained the shore, on which he stood
shaking himself, at the same time watching the motions of his late
antagonist, who, being no swimmer, began to struggle, and was just about
to sink. On seeing this, in he dashed, took the other gently by the
collar, kept his head above water, and brought him safely to land.
After this they became inseparable friends, and never fought again; and
when the Newfoundland dog met his death by a stone waggon running over
him, the mastiff languished, and evidently mourned for him for a long
time.
Let this incident afford us great encouragement to love our enemies, and
to return good for evil, since we find the feeling implanted in the
breast of a dog to save the life of his antagonist, and to cherish him
afterwards as a friend.
We may never be called on to save the life of a foe; but that would not
be more difficult to our natural disposition than acting kindly and
forgivingly towards those who daily annoy us--who injure us or offer us
petty insults.