Aileen Aroon, A Memoir Part 33

"'Don't be saucy,' I said.

"'Didn't I take a cup at the Crystal Palace?'

"'Yes, but it was only second prize, old boy.'

"'True, master, but nearly every one said it ought to have been first.

I'm only two years old and little over, and isn't a second prize at a Crystal Palace show a great honour for a youngster like myself?'

"'True, Nero, true; and now I've something to propose.'

"'To which,' said the dog, 'I am willing to listen.'

"'Well,' I said, 'there are dozens of dog-shows about to take place all over the country. I want a change: suppose we go round. Suppose we const.i.tute ourselves show folk. Eh?'

"'Capital.'

"'And you'll win lots of prize-money, Nero.'

"'And you'll spend it, master. Capital again.'

"'There won't be much capital left, I expect, doggie, by the time we get back; but we'll see a bit of England, at all events.'

"So we agreed to start, and so sure of winning with the dog was I that I bought that splendid red patent leather collar that you, Ida, sometimes wear for a waist-belt. The silver clasps on it were empty then, but each time the dog won a prize, the name of the town was engraved on one of the clasps."

"They are pretty well filled up now," said Ida.

"Yes, the dog won nineteen first prizes and cups in little over three months, which was very fair for those days. He was then dubbed champion. There was not a Newfoundland dog from Glasgow to Neath that would have cared to have met Nero in the show ring.

"He used to enter the arena, too, with such humour and dash, with his grand black coat floating around him, and the sun glittering on it like moonbeams on a midnight sea. That was how Nero entered the judging ring; he never slunk in, as did some dogs. He just as often as not had a stick in his mouth, and if he hadn't, he very soon possessed himself of one.

"'Yes, look at me all over,' he would say to the judges; 'there is no picking a fault in me, nor in my master either for that matter. I'm going to win, that's what I'm here for.'

"But when I was presented with the prize card by the judge, Nero never failed to make him a very pretty bow.

"The only misfortune that ever befell the poor fellow was at Edinburgh dog-show.

"On the morning of the second day--it was a three or four day exhibition--I received a warning letter, written in a female hand, telling me that those who were jealous of the dog's honours and winnings were going to poison him.

"I treated the matter as a joke. I could not believe the world contained a villain vile enough to do a splendid animal like that to death, and so cruel a death, for the sake of pique and jealousy. But I had yet to learn what the world was.

"The dog was taken to the show, and chained up as usual at his place on the bench. Alas! when I went to take him home for the night I found his head down, and hardly able to move. I got him away, and sat up with him all night administering restoratives.

"He was able to drink a little milk in the morning, and to save his prize-money I took him back, but had him carefully watched and tended all the remaining time that the show was open.

"We went to Boston, Lincoln, Gainsborongh, and all over Yorkshire and Lancaster and Chester, besides Scotland, and our progress was a triumph to the grand and beautiful dog. Especially was he admired by ladies at shows. Wherever else they might be, there was always a bevy of the fair s.e.x around Nero's cage. During that three months' tour he had more kisses probably than any dog ever had before in the same time. It was the same out of the show as in it--no one pa.s.sed him by without stopping to admire him.

"'Aren't we having a splendid time, master?' the dog said to me one day.

"'Splendid,' I replied; 'but I think we've done enough, my doggie. I think we had better retire now and go to sea for a spell.'

"'Heigho!' the dog seemed to say; 'but wherever your home is there mine is too, master.'"

"There is a prize card hanging on the wall of the wigwam," said Ida, "on which Nero is said to have won at a life-saving contest at Southsea."

"Yes, dear, that was another day's triumph for the poor fellow. He had won on the show bench there as well, and afterwards proved his prowess in the sea in the presence of admiring thousands.

"Your honest friend there, Ida, has been all along as fond of human beings and other animals as he is now. In their own country Newfoundlands are used often as sledge dogs, and sometimes as retrievers, but I do not think it is in their nature to take life of any kind, unless insect life, my gentle Ida. They don't like blue-bottles nor wasps, I must confess, but Nero has given many proofs of the kindness of heart he possesses that are really not easily forgotten.

"Tell you a few? I'll tell you one or two. The first seems trivial, but there is a certain amount of both pathos and humour about it. Two boys had been playing near the water at Gosport, and for mischiefs sake one had pitched the other's cap into the tide and ran off. The cap was being floated away, and the disconsolate owner was weeping bitterly on the bank, when we came up. Nero, without being told, understood what was wrong in a moment; one glance at the floating cap, another at the boy, then splash! he had sprang into the tide, and in a few minutes had laid the rescued article at the lad's feet; then he took his tongue across his cheek in a rough kind of caressing way.

"'There now,' he appeared to say, 'don't cry any more.'

"Nero ought to have made his exit here, and he would have come off quite the hero; but no, the spirit of mischief entered into him, and he shook himself, sending buckets of water all over the luckless lad, who was almost as wet now as if he had swam in after his cap himself. Then Nero came galloping up to me, laughing all over at the trick he had played the poor boy.

"This trick of shaking himself over people was taught him by one of my messmates; and he used to delight to take him along the beach on a summer's day, and put him in the water. When he came out, my friend would march along in front of the dog, till the latter was close to some gay lounger, then turn and say, 'Shake yourself, boy.' The _denouement_ may be more easily imagined than described, especially if the lounger happened to be a lady. I'm ashamed of my friend, but love the truth, Ida."

"How terribly wicked of Nero to do it!" said Ida.

"And yet I saw the dog one day remove a drowning mouse from his water dish, without putting a tooth in it. He placed it on the kitchen floor, and licked it as tenderly over as a cat would her kitten. He looked up anxiously in my face, as much as to say, 'Do you think the poor thing can live?'

"Hurricane Bob there, his son, does not inherit all his father's finest qualities; he would not scruple to kill mice or rats by the score. In fact, I have reason to believe he rather likes it. His mother was just the same before him; a kindly-hearted dog she was, but as wild as a wolf, and full of fun of the rough-and-tumble kind."

"Were you never afraid of losing poor Nero?"

"I did lose him one dark winter's night, Ida, in the middle of a large and populous city. Luckily, I had been staying there for some time--two weeks, I think--and there were different shops in different parts of the city where I dealt, and other places where I called to rest or read.

The dog was always in the habit of accompanying me to the shops, to bring home the purchases, so he knew them all. The very day on which I lost the dog I had changed my apartments to another quarter of the city.

"In the evening, while walking along a street, with Nero some distance behind me, it suddenly occurred to me to run into a shop and purchase a magazine I saw in the window. I never thought of calling the dog. I fancied he would see me entering the book-shop and follow, but he didn't; he missed me, and thinking I must be on ahead, rushed wildly away up the street into the darkness and rain, and I saw him no more that night.

"Only those who have lost a favourite dog under such circ.u.mstances can fully appreciate the extent of my grief and misery. I went home at long last to my lonely lodgings. How dingy and dreadful they seemed without poor Nero's honest form on the hearthrug! Where could he be, what would become of him, my only friend, my gentle, loving, n.o.ble dog, the only creature that cared for me? You may be sure I did not sleep, I never even undressed, but sat all night in my chair, sleeping towards morning, and dreaming uneasy dreams, in which the dog was always first figure.

"I was out and on my way to the police offices ere it was light. The weather had changed, frost had come, and snow had fallen.

"Several large black dogs had been found during the night; I went to see them all. Alas! none was Nero. So after getting bills printed, and arranging to have them posted, I returned disheartened to my lodgings.

But when the door opened, something as big as a bear flew out, flew at me, and fairly rolled me down among the snow.

"'No gentler caress, master,' said Nero, for it was he, 'would express the joy of the occasion.'

"Poor fellow, I found out that day that he had been at every one of the places at which I usually called; I daresay he had gone back to our old apartments too, and had of course failed to find me there. As a last resort he turned up at the house of an old soldier with whom I had had many a pleasant confab. This was about eleven o'clock; it was eight when he was lost. Not finding me here, he would have left again, and perhaps found his way to our new lodgings; but the old soldier, seeing that something must be amiss, took him in, kept him all night, found my rooms in the morning, and fetched him home. You may guess whether I thanked the old man or not.

"When Dolls (_see_ page 76) came to me first, he was in great grief for the loss of his dear master [Note 1]. Nero seemed to know it, and though he seldom made much of a fuss over dogs of this breed, he took Dolls under his protection; indeed, he hardly knew how kind to be to him.

"I ought to mention that Mortimer Collins and Nero were very great friends indeed, for the poet loved all things in nature good and true.

"There was one little pet that Nero had long before you knew him, Ida.

His name was Pearl, a splendid Pomeranian. Perhaps Pearl reminded Nero very much of his old favourite, Vee-vee. At all events he took to him, used to share his bed and board with him, and protected him from the attacks of strange dogs when out. Pearl was fat, and couldn't jump well. I remember our coming to a fence one day about a foot and a half high. The other dogs all went bounding over, but Pearl was left to whine and weep at the other side. Nero went straight back, bounded over and re-bounded over, as if showing Pearl how easy it was. But Pearl's heart failed, seeing which honest Nero fairly lifted him over by the back of the neck.

"I was going to give a dog called 'Pandoo' chastis.e.m.e.nt once. Pandoo was a young Newfoundland, and a great pet of Nero, whose son he was. I got the cane, and was about to raise it, when Nero sprang up and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from my hand, and ran off with it. It was done in a frolicsome manner, and with a deal of romping and jumping. At the same time, I could see he really meant to save the young delinquent; so I made a virtue of necessity, and pardoned Pandoo.