Part 1

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_DOG STORIES._

DOG STORIES

_FROM THE "SPECTATOR"_

BEING ANECDOTES OF THE INTELLIGENCE, REASONING POWER, AFFECTION AND SYMPATHY OF DOGS, SELECTED FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE COLUMNS OF "THE SPECTATOR"

_WITH AN INTRODUCTION_

BY

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY

NEW YORK: MACMILLAN AND CO. MDCCCXCV

"Sir, to leave things out of a book, merely because people tell you they will not be believed, is meanness."

(_Dr. Johnson._)

_All rights reserved._

CONTENTS.

PAGE

INTRODUCTION 7

SYLLOGISTIC DOGS 15

THE REASONING POWER OF DOGS 49

EMOTION AND SENTIMENT IN DOGS 99

DOGS AND THE ARTS 119

DOG FRIENDSHIPS 131

CURIOUS HABITS OF DOGS 155

THE SENSE OF HUMOUR AND CUNNING IN DOGS 165

USEFUL DOGS 177

MISCELLANEOUS 193

INTRODUCTION.

I.

The following Dog Stories are taken from the pages of the _Spectator_, with the permission of the editors and proprietors. It was suggested to me by Mr. Fisher Unwin that the many strange and pleasant stories of dogs which from time to time are sent to the _Spectator_ by its correspondents would, if put together, form a volume of no little entertainment for all who love dogs, or are interested in stories of animal intelligence. Up till now the _Spectator_ dog stories, after the week of their publication, have practically been inaccessible to the general reader; for he is a bold man who will attack a bound volume of a newspaper in search of amusement. Though I at once agreed that the suggested book would be a very readable one, and likely to please dog-lovers all the world over, I did not, till the selection was nearly made, realise how much the stories gain by being grouped together. A single story of a clever dog may amuse, but it is liable to be put aside as an accident, a coincidence, a purely exceptional circumstance which proves nothing. If, however, instead of a single story we have half a dozen illustrating the same form of intelligence, the value of the evidence is enormously increased, and a collection of dog stories may become of very great value in determining such questions as the power of dogs to act on reason as well as on instinct, or their ability to understand human language. The solution of these problems is, I cannot help thinking, materially advanced by the stories in the present book. Take, again, the group of stories which I have labelled Purchasing Dogs. One sample of this kind might, as I have noted above, be put off as a case of imperfect observation, or as a curious coincidence; but when we get a whole group of stories it becomes very difficult to doubt that dogs may learn the first principles of the science of exchange. The Italian dog (page 59) which did the narrator a service by fetching him cigars, demanded payment in the shape of a penny, and then used that penny by exchanging it for a loaf, was far advanced in the practice of Political Economy. He not only understood and acted on an implied contract, but realised the great fact at the back of the currency. "What are guineas," said Horne Tooke, "but tickets for sheep and oxen!" The Italian dog did not, like a savage, say, "What is the use of copper to me, I cannot eat it?" Instead, he perceived that the piece of copper was a ticket for bread. It should be noted too that this dog, the dog called Hardy (page 57) and others, were able to distinguish between the pieces of copper given them. Again, the Glasgow story (page 53) shows that a dog can learn to realise that a halfpenny will buy not merely one thing but several things--in fact, that the great advantage of exchange by currency over barter is that it gives you a choice. While on the subject of purchasing dogs, it is curious to reflect how very little is wanted to convert the dog that is able to purchase into a free agent. If a dog can exchange his faculty for cigar carrying or his tricks against half-pence, why should he not exchange useful services, such as guarding a house or herding sheep, and so become self-supporting? Imagine a collie paid by the day, and, when his work was over, receiving twopence and going off to buy his supper. But the vista opened is too far-reaching. One sees down it dogs paid by the hour and by the piece, and then dogs asking for better pay and shorter hours, and, finally, dogs on strike, and dog "black-legs," or "free dogs."

II.

A word should be said as to the authenticity of the stories in the present volume. It is a matter of common form for the evening newspapers to talk of the _Spectator_ dog stories as hoaxes, and to refer in their playful, way to "another _Spectator_ dog." It might not then unnaturally have been supposed that a person undertaking to edit and reprint these stories would have found a considerable number that showed signs of being hoaxes. I may confess, indeed, that I set out with the notion of forming a sort of Appendix to the present work, which should be headed "Ben Trovato," in which should be inserted stories which were too curious and amusing to be left out altogether, but which, on the other hand, were what the Americans call a little "too tall" to be accepted as genuine. The result of my plan was unexpected. Though I found many stories in which the inferences seemed strained or mistaken, and others which contained indications of exaggeration, I could find but two stories which could reasonably be declared as only suitable for a "Ben Trovato." I therefore suppressed my heading. The truth is that the animal stories are much more carefully sifted at the _Spectator_ office than our witty critics and contemporaries will admit. No stories are ever published unless the names and addresses of the writers are supplied, and all stories are rejected which have anything clearly suspicious about them. What the editors of the _Spectator_ do not do is to reject a dog-story because it states that a dog has been observed to do something which has never been reported as having been done by a dog before, or at any rate, something which is not universally admitted to be doable by a dog. Apparently this willingness to print stories which enlarge our notions of animal intelligence is regarded in certain quarters as a sign that the _Spectator_ will swallow anything, and that its stories must be apocryphal. I cannot, however, help thinking that all who care for the advancement of knowledge in regard to animals should be grateful to the editors of the _Spectator_ for not adopting the plan of excluding all dog stories that do not correspond with an abstract ideal of canine intelligence. Had they acted on the principle of putting every anecdote that seemed _primâ facie_ unlikely into the waste-paper basket, they would certainly have missed a great many stories of real value. In truth, there is nothing so credulous as universal incredulity. An attitude of general incredulity means a blind belief in the existing state of opinion. If we believe that animals have no reasoning power, and refuse to examine evidence that is brought to show the contrary, we are adopting, the attitude of those who disbelieve that the earth goes round the sun because they seem daily to see a proof of an exactly opposite proposition. If people are to refuse to believe anything of a dog that does not sound likely on the face of it, we shall never get at the truth about animal intelligence. What is wanted is the careful preservation and collection of instances of exceptional intelligence.

III.

Before I conclude this Introduction, I should like to address a word of apology to the correspondents of the _Spectator_ whose letters form the present volume. Though the copyright of the letters belongs to the editors and proprietors of the _Spectator_ I should have liked to ask the leave of the various writers before republishing their letters. Physical difficulties have, however rendered this impossible. In the case of nearly half the letters the names and addresses have not been preserved. In many instances, again, only the names remain. Lastly, a large number of the letters are ten or twelve, or even twenty years old, and the writers may therefore be dead or out of England. Under these circumstances I have not made any effort to enter into communication with the writers before including their letters in this book. That their permission would have been given, had it been asked, I do not doubt. The original communication of the letters to the _Spectator_ is proof that the writers wished a public use to be made of the anecdotes they relate. As long, then, as the letters are not altered or edited, but produced verbatim, I may, I think, feel assured that I am doing nothing which is even remotely discourteous to the writers.

_SYLLOGISTIC DOGS._

A DOG ON LONG SERMONS.

[_Aug. 4, 1888._]

During a recent journey in Canada, I met with a striking instance of reason in a dog. I was staying at the Mohawk Indian Institution, Brantford, Ontario. The Rev. R. Ashton, superintendent of the school, is also incumbent of the neighbouring Mohawk Church (the oldest Protestant church in Canada). Mr. Ashton is very fond of animals, and has many pets. One of these, a black-and-tan terrier, always accompanies the ninety Indian children to church on Sunday morning. He goes to the altar-rails, and lies down facing the congregation. When they rise to sing, he rises; and when they sit, he lies down. One day, shortly before my visit, a stranger-clergyman was preaching, and the sermon was longer than usual. The dog grew tired and restless, and at last a thought occurred to him, upon which he at once acted. He had observed that one of the elder Indian boys was accustomed to hand round a plate for alms, after which the service at once concluded. He evidently thought that if he could persuade this boy to take up the collection, the sermon must naturally end. He ran down to the back seat occupied by the boy, seated himself in the aisle, and gazed steadfastly in the boy's face. Finding that no notice was taken, he sat up and "begged" persistently for some time, to Mr. Ashton's great amusement. Finally, as this also failed, the dog put his nose under the lad's knee, and tried with all his strength to force him out of his place, continuing this at intervals till the sermon was concluded.

Did not this prove a distinct power of consecutive reasoning?

A. H. A.

A COMMERCIAL TREATY BETWEEN A DOG AND A HEN.

[_July 7, 1888._]

Your dog-loving readers may be interested in the following instance of animal sagacity. Bob is a fine two-year-old mastiff, with head and face of massive strength, heightened by great mildness of expression. One day he was seen carrying a hen, very gently, in his mouth, to the kennel. Placing her in one corner, he stood sentry while she laid an egg, which he at once devoured. From that day the two have been fast friends, the hen refusing to lay anywhere but in "Bob's" kennel, and getting her reward in the dainty morsels from his platter. There must have been a bit of canine reasoning here. "Bob" must have found eggs to his liking, that they were laid by hens, and that he could best secure a supply by having a hen to himself.

THOMAS HAMER.

A DOG NURSE.

[_Feb. 20, 1875._]

A patient recently consulted me who was blind and subject to fits. I pointed out to her friends the danger to which she was exposed in case a fit came on when she was in the vicinity of a fire, and they informed me that she incurred little or no risk, because a favourite dog ran at once and fetched assistance the moment a fit came on. This intelligent animal would rush into the next house barking eagerly, would seize the dress of the woman who lived there, and drag her to the assistance of his mistress. If one did not go, he would seize another, and exhibited the most lively symptoms of distress until his object was accomplished.

CHARLES BELL TAYLOR, M.D., F.R.C.S.

INSTINCT, OR REASON?

[_Sept. 1, 1888._]

The following incident in dog-life may perhaps find a place in the _Spectator_. I quote from a letter received a few days ago from my nephew, "T. G. T.," resident in South Africa:--"Johannesburg, Traansvaal.--My dog Cherry has had three great pups, and I had to leave her behind at the Grange. When I was going away, Cherry and the pups were located in some stables. She came out and watched the tent-truck and my things packed up. Presently I went away, and when I came back I found Cherry had carried all the pups on to the top of my luggage, and evidently had not the least intention of staying behind."

T. W. T.

HOSPITAL DOGS.

[_June 26, 1875._]

Dr. Walter F. Atlee writes to the editor of the _Philadelphia Medical Times_:--

"In a letter recently received from Lancaster, where my father resides, it is said:--'A queer thing occurred just now. Father was in the office, and heard a dog yelping outside the door; he paid no attention until a second and louder yelp was heard, when he opened it, and found a little brown dog standing on the step upon three legs. He brought him in, and on examining the fourth leg, found a pin sticking in it. He drew out the pin, and the dog ran away again.' The office of my father, Dr. Atlee, is not directly on the street, but stands back, having in front of it some six feet of stone wall with a gate. I will add, that it has not been possible to discover anything more about this dog.

"This story reminds me of something similar that occurred to me while studying medicine in this same office nearly thirty years ago. A man, named Cosgrove, the keeper of a low tavern near the railroad station, had his arm broken, and came many times to the office to have the dressings arranged. He was always accompanied by a large, most ferocious-looking bull-dog, that watched me most attentively, and most unpleasantly to me, while bandaging his master's arm. A few weeks after Cosgrove's case was discharged, I heard a noise at the office door, as if some animal was pawing it, and on opening it, saw there this huge bull-dog, accompanied by another dog that held up one of its front legs, evidently broken. They entered the office. I cut several pieces of wood, and fastened them firmly to the leg with adhesive plaster, after straightening the limb. They left immediately. The dog that came with Cosgrove's dog I never saw before nor since."

Do not these stories adequately show that the dogs reasoned and drew new inferences from a new experience?

B.

[_April 6, 1889._]

Knowing your interest in dogs, I venture to send you the following story. A week or two ago, the porter of the Bristol Royal Infirmary was disturbed one morning about 6.30 by the howling of a dog outside the building. Finding that it continued, he went out and tried to drive it away; but it returned and continued to howl so piteously, that he was obliged to go out to it again. This time he observed that one of its paws was injured. He therefore brought it in and sent for two nurses, who at once dressed the paw, and were rewarded by every canine sign of gratitude, including much licking of their hands. The patient was "retained" for two days, during which time he received every attention from those inside the house, and from the neighbours outside, who quickly heard of the case. As no one appeared to claim the dog, he was sent to the Home for Lost Dogs in the city, where so interesting an animal was, of course, not long in finding a purchaser. The dog was one of those called "lurchers."

I have myself called on the porter of the infirmary for confirmation of the story, and am assured by him of its truth. How did an apparently friendless dog know where to go for surgical aid? The case differs from that of the dog which took its friend for treatment to King's College Hospital in London, for I understand that the King's College dog had previously been taken to the hospital for treatment itself; but in this case there is no such clue.

HELEN M. STURGE.

FEATURES IN THE CHARACTER OF A DOG.

[_June 10, 1876._]

For some time past I have noticed in your journal letters and articles referring to the wonderful powers of dogs. As I was myself much struck by many features in the character of a dog which I knew, illustrating, as I think, not only affection, but reasoning faculties, I shall acquaint you with a few of these, believing that they may be _interesting_, at least to all admirers of that noble animal.

The dog of which I speak was a terrier. It showed its affection in the most marked manner in several ways. Every morning, as soon as it got out of the kitchen, it came to its master's door, and if not admitted and caressed about the usual hour, gave evident signs of impatience. It would lie quiet till it thought the time had arrived, but never longer. Afterwards it went to the breakfast-room, and occupied its master's chair till he arrived. On one occasion a visitor was in the house, who, coming first into the room, ordered the dog to come off the best chair. To this it paid no attention, and when threatened with expulsion, at once prepared for defence. But as soon as its master appeared it resigned its place voluntarily, and quietly stretched itself on the rug at his feet.

At another time it was left for three weeks during its master's absence from home. It saw him leave in a steamer, and every day until his return it repaired to the quay upon the arrival of the same boat, expecting him to come again in the one by which he had gone. It distinguished between a number of boats, always selecting the right one and the right hour.

One evening it accompanied its master when he went to gather mussels for bait. As the tide was far in, few mussels remained uncovered; and after collecting all within reach, more were required. A large bunch lay a few feet from the water's edge, but beyond reach; yet as the dog was not one of those who take the water to fetch, its master had no expectation that it would prove useful on the present occasion. Seeing him looking at the mussels, however, it first took a good look at those in the basket, and then, without being directed at all, went into the water. Selecting the right bunch from amongst the stones and wreck with which it was surrounded, it brought it to land, and laid it at its master's feet. This, I think, is a proof of _reason_, rather than of instinct. The dog had never been trained to go into the sea, and would not probably have brought out the mussels had it not seen that they were wanted.

It showed wonderful instinct, however, just before the death of one of its pups, and before its own death. Its pup had not been thriving, and the mother gave unmistakable proof that she foresaw its death. She dug a grave for it and put it in. Nor, when it was removed, would she let it lie beside her, but immediately dug another grave, where she was less likely to be disturbed. Upon the day of her own death, also, she used what strength she had to dig her grave, in which she lay, preferring to die in it, than in what would seem to most a place of greater comfort.[1]

These may not be singular incidents, but they are still remarkable and worthy of notice. They serve to show us the wonderful nature of man's faithful friend, the dog, and how he has many traits of character fitted to make him the worthy receiver of kindness and respect.

T.

[Footnote 1: It is difficult to accept T.'s explanation of the dog's object in digging. Possibly its aim was to obtain warmth or shelter.]

BULLY'S SHORT CUT.

[_Aug. 29, 1874._]

I see that you welcome all notes of interest upon our fellow-beings, the dogs. Here is one that seems to prove they have a sense of time and of distance as measured by time.

I was walking with my bull-terrier, Bully (seven years old last Christmas), during a hot afternoon this month homewards along the Bund (Shanghai), and I suddenly missed him. I turned back for twenty or thirty yards, and, not finding him, I gave up the search, saying, "He knows the way home well enough." Presently I saw him on my right, dripping with water, cantering on at a round pace, without looking about him, homewards. I watched him, curious to see whether he would go straight home. No. He kept on till he reached the distance of about 150 yards, and looked ahead, _not_ smelling the ground. He then deliberately walked back, catching sight of me in about twenty yards after his turning back, and wagged his tale recognisingly. He had evidently been to cool himself in the river (thirty yards to the right, it being low tide), and, thinking I would go on at the ordinary pace without him, he, after his bath, struck directly at a long diagonal for the point I would have reached if I had not turned back to look for him. He did not seem to have the slightest misgiving as to his sense of the distance I _ought_ to have walked during the time of his bath. His turning was done seemingly with a calm assurance of certainty. I may add that there were twenty to thirty foot-passengers scattered over the portion of road in question at the time, whose footsteps might have effaced my scent on the _watered_ granite macadamised roadway, even supposing the dog to have tried his sense of smell, _which he did not_, as far as I could see, and I noticed him carefully.

W. G. S.

CANINE INTELLIGENCE.

[_July 24, 1886._]

You often give us pleasant anecdotes of our four-footed friends. You may think the following worthy of record. I have a little dog, a not particularly well-bred fox-terrier. He is much attached to me, and shows by his obedience, and sometimes _in_ his disobedience, that he understands a good deal. Yesterday I was away all day, and he, I am told, was very uneasy, and searched everywhere for me. Every day at 5 p.m. I go to church. Toby seems to know this is not an ordinary walk, and never offers to come with me. But yesterday, when the bell began, he started off and took up his position by the vestry door. I believe he reasoned with himself, "There goes the bell; now I shall catch the Vicar."

WILLIAM QUENNELL.

THE DOG AND THE FERRY.

[_April 4, 1885._]

Reading from time to time many pleasant anecdotes in the columns of the _Spectator_--which, by the way, I receive as regularly, and read as eagerly, as when resident in England many years ago--relative to the sagacity of dogs, I send the following, thinking it possible you may deem it worthy of insertion.