Dog Stories from the "Spectator" Part 8

A CURIOUS FRIENDSHIP.

[_Feb. 6, 1875._]

I have two dogs, two cats, and a kitten. Many years of experience have shown me, in the teeth of all proverbs, that cats and dogs, members of the same household, live together quite as amicably as human beings.

Only, like human beings, they have their dislikes and preferences for each other. At the present time, my dog Snow is on terms of hearty friendship with my grey cat Kitty, but of polite indifference with my black cat Toppy.

Toppy, for some years back, has been subject to fits, owing, it is considered, to the lodgment of some small shot near her spine, whilst out trespa.s.sing (or poaching).

Yesterday Snow rushed into the kitchen with face so anxious and piteous that my servants both exclaimed that something must have happened; gave signs, as he can do, that somebody was to go with him, and was followed into the drawing-room, where Toppy, left alone, had fallen under the grate in a fit, and was writhing amid the ashes and embers. She was rescued, and beyond a little singeing, does not seem much the worse.

To reach the kitchen, Snow must have pushed open a red-baize door, which he has never been known to open before, and before which he will stay barking for ten minutes at a time to be let through.

If any biped, supposing himself to be endowed with reason, humanity, and articulate speech, tells me that Snow is a conscious automaton, can I give him any other answer than, "You're another"?

J. M. L.

AN ACT OF CANINE FRIENDSHIP.

[_Nov. 6, 1880._]

I have read from time to time in the pages of the _Spectator_ instances of canine sagacity furnished by your correspondents, which have, no doubt, interested many others besides myself. The following incident occurred last Sat.u.r.day, in my walk from the beach, which, perhaps, may amuse your readers, as it did me.

My curiosity was excited by seeing a young retriever on his hind legs licking very ardently the face of a nice-looking donkey, who was tethered on the bank. After licking his face all over for a long time, he began to frisk around him, evidently anxious to have a trot together; but, finding that his friend was tied by a rope, he deliberately began to gnaw it, and in a very short time succeeded in setting him free! The owner of the donkey, who happened to be at work close by, then interfered, and put a stop to their little game, or otherwise Master Neddy would, no doubt, have been seduced to join in a scamper. From the warmth of the dog's salutes, I imagine that he and the donkey were old friends.

S. RICHARDS.

DOG AND CANARY.

[_Nov. 20, 1880._]

I was much interested in the account of the friendship that existed between the young retriever and the donkey whom he released by gnawing the rope. The little incident I send of another retriever may also interest your readers. A friend of mine had a pet canary, while her brother was the owner of a retriever that was also much petted. One day the canary escaped from the house, and was seen flying about the grounds for a few days, and when it perched was generally on high elm-trees. At last it vanished from view, and this dear little pet was mourned for as lost or dead. But after the interval of another day or so, the retriever came in with the canary in his mouth, carrying it most delicately, and went up to the owner of the bird, delivering it into her hands without even the feathers being injured. Surely nothing could ill.u.s.trate more beautifully faithful love and gentleness in a dog than this.

E. TILL.

CAT-AND-DOG LOVE.

[_April 13, 1878._]

Would you allow me, as a cat fancier of nearly thirty years' standing, to corroborate, by a personal experience, Mr. Balfour's testimony in your last issue to the possibility of a genuine attachment between a cat and a dog? A few weeks ago, I called upon a bachelor friend who has two pets, a handsome black female cat, of the name of Kate, and a bright little terrier, responding to the call of David. My friend a.s.sured me that they lived on the most affectionate terms. They were certainly not demonstrative, but they were importations from Scotland, and refrained from "spooning" before folk. The character of the attachment was soon tested. Another acquaintance entered the room, accompanied by a terrier of about the same size as David, although not of the same variety. This dog made at once for the cat, then resting in front of the fire. She backed against the wall, and prepared for a fight, in which, if I may judge from her size, she would have been victorious. But she was saved the trouble of using her claws. Before she could utter a feline equivalent for "Jack Robinson," before the door could be closed, David rushed at the intruder, and literally ran him out of the room and down two flights of stairs, with a rapidity worthy of a member of the Irish Constabulary. By the time he returned, his Dulcinea had arranged herself for another nap, but she opened one eye as her companion took his place by his side, and--

"Betwixt her darkness and his brightness, There pa.s.sed a mutual glance of great politeness."

I witnessed a similar scene some years ago in a country inn in the north of Scotland. On that occasion, one dog defended against another a favourite cat and a favourite hen.

Speaking of cats, can any one say what has become of the late Pope's black cat, Morello? Did he die before his master, or has some one adopted him? Chateaubriand, as everybody knows, adopted Micetto, the grey favourite of Leo XII.

WILLIAM WALLACE.

_CURIOUS HABITS OF DOGS._

THE DOG THAT BURIED THE FROGS.

[_Feb. 2, 1895._]

Knowing your love of animals, and the interest so often shown in your columns in their ways, I venture to send you the following story I have lately heard from an eye-witness, and to ask whether you or any of your readers can throw any light upon the dog's probable object. The dog in question was a Scotch terrier. He was one day observed to appear from a corner of the garden carrying in his mouth, very gently and tenderly, a live frog. He proceeded to lay the frog down upon a flower-bed, and at once began to dig a hole in the earth, keeping one eye upon the frog to see that it did not escape. If it went more than a few feet from him, he fetched it back, and then continued his work. Having dug the hole a certain depth, he then laid the frog, still alive, at the bottom of it, and promptly scratched the loose earth back into the hole, and friend froggy was buried alive! The dog then went off to the corner of the garden, and returned with another frog, which he treated in the same way. This occurred on more than one occasion; in fact, as often as he could find frogs he occupied himself in burying them alive. Now dogs generally have some reason for what they do. What can have been a dog's reason for burying frogs alive? It does not appear that he ever dug them up again to provide himself with a meal. If, sir, you or any of your readers can throw any light on this curious, and for the frogs most uncomfortable, behaviour of my friend's Scotch terrier, I should be very much obliged.

R. ACLAND-TROYTE.

AN EXPLANATION.

[_Feb. 9, 1895._]

I think I can explain the puzzle of the Scotch terrier and his interment of the frogs, for the satisfaction of your correspondent. A friend of mine had once a retriever who was stung by a bee, and ever afterwards, when the dog found a bee near the ground, she stamped on it, and then sc.r.a.ped earth over it and buried it effectually--presumably to put an end to the danger of further stings. In like manner, another dog having bitten a toad, showed every sign of having found the mouthful to the last degree unpleasant. Probably Mr. Acland-Troyte's dog had, in the same way, bitten a toad, and conceived henceforth that he rendered public service by putting every toad-like creature he saw carefully and gingerly "out of harm's way," underground.

A great number of the buryings and other odd tricks of dogs must, however, I am sure, be considered as Atavism, and traced to the instincts bequeathed by their remote progenitors when yet "wild in the woods the n.o.ble _beastie_ ran." Such, I believe, is generally admitted to be the explanation of the universal habit of every dog before lying down to turn round two or three times and scratch its intending bed--even when that bed is of the softest woollen or silk--apparently to ascertain that no snakes or thorns lurk in its sleeping-place.

A dog which I once possessed exhibited such reversion to ancestral habits in a noteworthy way. She was a beautiful white Pomeranian; and when a litter of puppies was impending, on one occasion she scratched an enormous hole in our back-garden in South Kensington, where her leisure hours were pa.s.sed--a hole like the burrow of a fox. It was not in the least of the character of the ordinary circular punch-bowl so often scooped out by idle or impatient dogs, but a long, deep channel running at a sharp angle a considerable way underground. Obviously, it was Yama's conviction that it was her maternal duty to provide shelter for her expected offspring, precisely as a fox or rabbit must feel it, and as we may suppose her own ancestresses did on the sh.o.r.es of the Baltic some thousand generations ago. When the puppies were born, Yama and the survivor were established by me in a most comfortable kennel in the same garden, with a day nursery and a night nursery (covered and open) for the comfort and safety of the puppy. But one fine morning, when the little creature had begun to crawl over the inclosure of its small domain, I happened to go into the garden while Yama was absent in the house, and discovered that my little friend was missing. The puppy had disappeared altogether; and at the same time I noticed that the flower-bed in which Yama had made her excavation had been nicely smoothed over by the gardener, who was putting the place in order. A suspicion instantly seized me, and I exclaimed, "You have buried my puppy!" I ran to the spot where the hole had been made, and, having swept aside the gardener's spadeful of soil, found the deeper part of the hole, running slanting underground, still open. I knelt down and thrust in my arm to its fullest stretch, and then, at the very end of the hole, my fingers encountered a little soft, warm, fluffy ball. The puppy came out quite happy and uninjured, freshly awakened from sleep, having shown that his instinct recognised the suitability of holes in the ground for the accommodation of puppies; just as the hereditary instinct of his mother had led her to prepare one for him, even in a South Kensington garden!

FRANCES POWER COBBE.

A DOG AND HIS DINNER.

[_Feb. 16, 1895._]

I knew a dog in Ireland--a large retriever--who had been taught always to bring his own tin dish in his mouth, to be filled at the late dinner.

For some reason his master wished to make a change, and to feed him twice a day instead of once, to which he had always been accustomed. The dog resented this, and when told to bring his dish, refused, and it could nowhere be found; on which his master spoke angrily to him, and ordered him to bring the dish at once. With drooping tail and sheepish expression he went down the length of the garden, and began scratching up the soil where he had buried the bowl deep down, to avoid having to bring it at an hour of which he did not approve.

A LOVER OF DOGS.

DOGS AND LOOKING-GLa.s.sES.

[_June 23, 1894._]

You are fond of odd actions of dogs, so perhaps the following may be acceptable. I have two fox-terriers--young dogs--Grip and Vic. In the morning, at early tea in our bedroom, Vic gets angry with Grip's reflection in the long gla.s.s of the wardrobe, barks at him furiously as he moves about, and scratches at the gla.s.s, quite regardless of her own face between her and his reflection. And when he a.s.saults her from behind, to make her play with his real self, she turns round and snaps at him viciously, and then returns to her attack on his reflection. He jumps upon the window-sill, and fancies he sees a squirrel in the garden, and dashes past her to the door; she follows the motion of the reflection till she is past the edge of the gla.s.s, and loses it, when she dashes back to the gla.s.s again. This has occurred several days in the last week, and seems to me almost absurd. The dogs are just about a year old, and so beyond puppy folly, though very lively and playful still.