House of Dogs
Here is a great difference of opinion on the subject of dogs. By some people they are admired, and fondled, and petted, and have collars around their necks, and embroidered blankets for their backs, and they lie on the lady’s pillow, and take their siestas on the lounge, and are members of the family, the first question in coming into the house after a ride being, “Where is Spot?”
Others abhor dogs. The innocent canines, passing the threshold, are met with emphatic” Get out!’’ They go with their head down all their days, once in a while lifting a timid eye to a passer-by; but then, as if to atone for the outrage, giving a yelp of repentance and darting; down the road.
One-half the do
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crs you see bear the marks
N 193 of humiliation. They never saw a bone till all the meat was picked off, and no sooner did they find the gill of a beheaded chicken, and had gone under the shed for a noonday repast, than they were howled away. They have had split sticks on their tail, and tin pails appended, the whole bevy of boys shouting as the miserable cur went down the street, rattle- te- bang. He frisked up pleasantly to greet a sweet lady as she came in the gate, and the damsel shrieked as if she had been massacred, and threw herself into the arms of her friends as soon as the door was opened, crying, ‘’That horrid doo;!” What chance have doss at respectability? Who wonders that they steal sheep?
Now there is, back of Hoboken, a kennel large enough to accommodate fifty dogs. One day a citizen, passing that way, was reading an account of a ereat international council to be called, and forthwith the great dog that inhabited the big kennel took the suggestion, and said, “I will make proclamation to all the kingdom of dogs, and they shall come to declare and avenge their wrongs.”
Soon there was much barking, and it was found out that the clans were gathering. The amphitheatre of the kennel was crowded with hunters’ dogs, and teamsters’ dogs, and ladies’ dogs, and rowdies’ dogs. The great bull-dog, with one huge growl, called the meeting to order, himself taking the chair.
He growled at the cruelty of men, and growled at the folly of women, and growled at the outrages of children, till his growl rose into a furious bark, in which the audience joined, rat-terriers snarling, greyhounds baying, spaniels yelping, so that the tumult was louder than a whole pack on the fox-chase when with full voice they burst away on the moors. All attempts at gaining order were ineffectual, till presiding bull-dog took rat-terrier by the neck, and shook him till the bones cracked, and all the poodles shrieked in sheer fright.
Several watch-dogs seated themselves at the reporters’ desk, and took notes of proceedings. A letter of regret, post - marked Switzerland, was read from a Saint Bernard dog, saying that he could not come, being busy in saving travellers from the snow in the Alpine passes, but signified himself ready to accept any dogma that might be enacted by the “House of Dogs.” A letter was also read from a descendant of Throckmorton’s pointer. He scorned the Invitation to be present. He did not believe In Democratic assemblages, he having descended from the most aristocratic pointer of all history, and could not have anything to do with American mongrels. One of his great-grandfathers had been on the chase with George the Third, and an ancestor on his mother’s side had run under the carriage of the Lord Mayor of London.
At this point a fiery blood-hound sprang to his back feet, and offered the following resolutions:
Whereas, All dogs have by nature certain Inalienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; therefore,
Resolved, is fly, That we express our indignation at the treatment received from the human race.
Resolved, idly, That to extirpate the evil, all dogs hereafter be allowed to vote, white and black, male and female.
At this point the whole convention rose up into a riot. The more conservative declared that in this matter of suffrage everything depends on the color of the dog, and that as to the females, he thought it would be far more respectable if they staid at home and took care of the pups.
The uproar bid fair to break up the convention, had not a frisky canine mounted the stage, and in very witty style addressed the meeting. The crowd saw that something pleasant was coming, for he kept wagging his tail — indeed, he was a perfect wag. His speech was not printed, for the reporter was requested not to take it down,” as he might want, at some other convention, to make the same speech. -Suffice it to say, the whole convention were thrown into good humor, and sat with the sides of their mouths drawn back, and their tongues out in perfect glee.
Discussion of the resolutions being in order, butcher’s dog took the stand. He complained that he had received nothing at the hands of man but cruelty and meanness. Surrounded as he had been always by porter-house steaks and calf’s liver, and luscious shank-pieces, and lamb-chops, he had been kept on grisde and lights. In the peroration of his speech, he said: “Hear it, ye dogs! Was it for this that we were spared in the Ark? Better that our ancestors had perished in the Deluge. I care not what course others may take, but as for me, give me beefsteak, or give me death!”
At this point there was a scramble and a rush, and a very disagreeable lap - dog leaped upon the stand. His hair was white and curly, and his eyes red and watery, and his nose damp, and there was a blue ribbon about his neck. His voice was very weak, and could not be heard. An old mastiff shouted, “Louder! “and a Newfoundland exclaimed, “Louder!’* And bull -dog, the presiding officer, seized lap - dog by the neck, and pitched him off the staee, for darine to come there with no orift at public speaking.
A teamster’s doof came forward. He had been for five years running under a Pennsylvania wagon. He hailed from Berks County, and his advantages had been limited. He was an anti - temperance dog, and complained that there were not enough taverns, for his only time to rest was when his master was halting at the inn. He had travelled many thousand miles in his time, worried ninety -eight cats, and bitten a piece out of the legs of two hundred and sixty -three beggars. He cried, “Down with the temperance fanatics, and up with more taverns!”
An old house-dog rose and looked round, and said: “My children, I am sorry to hear so many complaints! I have had a good time. I own all the place where I live. All the children of my master have ridden on my back. I used to eat with the baby off of the same plate without any spoon. When the boy came back from sea, I was the first to greet him home. What a jolly time I had at the weddings watching the horses, and eating crumbs of cake. When sad days came to my master I cheered him up. I was the first to hear his step, and the last to part with him at the lane. I fled not when the black-tasselled hearse came through the gate; and when the cry in the house told me that hearts were broken, I tapped at the door and went in, and laid down on the mat, and tried to divert my master from his woe. I am worth nothing now, but young and old speak kindly when they pass, and I have nothing to disturb me, save when I dream in my sleep that a hare is passing, and I start to take him, and a stiffness catches me in the joints.”
A erowl went throuph the kennel. The speech was unpopular. They said old house-dog was getting childish, or they would have howled him down.
The next speaker was a worn - out fighting doe. He had two slits in each ear, and one leg had been broken, and his two eyes had been partially dug out, and his tail abbreviated till it was nothing to speak of. He was covered with the wounds of battle, and staggered to the staee, and said:
‘’ All the world seems to be against me. I am always getting into trouble. Every foot kicks me, every cudgel strikes me, every whiffet annoys me, every tooth bites me. Pity the sorrows of a poor old dog! In younger days I might have entered into the spirit of this convention, but the time is past. I shall soon join the dogs of Nimrod the mighty hunter.
This Is probably the last time I shall ever address the ‘House of Dogs.’ My hearing is gone, and though at this moment the applause of this audience may be risif!g, I hear it not. I go down to my grave unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Upon these dim eyes no vision of brightness shall dawn. Other tails may wag, but not mine. I have no tail! It is gone forever!”
At this point the whole convention broke down into a whine and snuffle, and no one felt like lifting the spell till —
A hunting - dog sprang to his feet, and broke in with a cheerful clangor of voice, which had in it the ring of hunters’ horn, and call of the hawk, and gabble of wild geese, and the whirr of a grouse’s wing, and the crack of the fowling-piece, and the stroke of a thunderclap as it drops on the head of the Catskills on an August noon. He cried:
“Why all this complaint? If you want good meat, why do you not hunt It down? If you want sport, why do you not go where it is? If you want to keep your tail, keep out of dogfights? If you would have your vision clear, wash your eyes In mountain dew at daybreak. When I want it, my master hath for me a whistle, and a patting, and a caress, and a chunk of cheese cut clear across from his own luncheon. His boys are all mine. They race with me down the lane. They throw apples into the wave for me to swim in and catch. From the door of my kennel I hear the shout of the beaux teasing the damsels by the lamplight. What music it is — the sound of the knife striking my meal from the dinner-plate! What beauty — the foam flung from a moose’s lips, the wave dashed from an elk’s flank, the shadow dropped from a pheasant’s wing, the wrinkled nostril of the deer snufflng the air as the hounds come down the wind! Oh, ye house-dogs! This world is what you make it, desolate or glad! I have free house, free fare, the earth for a play-ground, the sky for a frescoed wall, the lake for a wash-basin, the mountain mosses for a rug on which to wipe my feet. A first-rate world for dogs!”
“Silence!” cried presiding bull-dog, “we came here to curse and not to bless.” *’ Put him out! “cried the mastiff.” Put him out! “cried scores of voices. And blood -hound plunged at hunting-dog’s throat, and teamster rushed at the speaker with fiercer snarl than ever he started from under Pennsylvania wagon at small boy trying to steal the lash-whip, and fighting - dog tumbled over the back of poodle in blind rage, and Tray, Blanchard, and Sweetheart, and Wolf, and Carlo, and Spot joined In the assault, till hunting-dog flew from the kennel, followed by a terrific volley of howls, roars, yelps, and bellows, that brought out the whole neighborhood of men with lanterns and torches, to find an empty kennel, save here and there a patch of hair, and a few broken teeth, and one dislocated eye, and a small piece of rat -terrier’s ear, and a shred of blue ribbon from the poodle’s neck, and the remaining inch of fighting-dog’s tall which had been the only fragment left from previous encounters, even that small consolation henceforth denied him, and scraps of paper containing the resolutions which had not been passed In consequence of the sudden and precipitate adjournment of the “House of Dogs.” By this time it was daybreak, and hunting-dog had cleared his pursuers, and back of the cliffs was breakfasting on wild pigeon.