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.

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.

Some three years ago I was "having a spell" in Brisbane, after a lengthened sojourn on a sheep station in the interior of Queensland. During my stay in the city I had the good fortune to gain the friendship of a gentleman who owned a magnificent collie. My friend, his dog Sweep, and myself, were frequently together, engaged either in yachting among the islands of Moreton Bay, or 'possum hunting under the towering eucalypti which fringe the banks of the river Brisbane. Naturally "Sweep" (who was a most lovable animal) and myself soon began to entertain a warm friendship for one another, which friendship gave rise to the anecdote I am about to relate. Returning to my hotel about midnight from the house of a friend, I was not a little startled at finding my hand suddenly seized from behind by a dog, which, however, I at once recognised as my handsome acquaintance, Sweep. I patted him, at the same time endeavouring to withdraw the hand which he held firmly, but gently, between his teeth. It was of no use, as, in spite of all my endearments, he insisted on retaining his hold, wriggling along by my side, and vigorously wagging his tail, as though he would say, "Don't be afraid; it's all right." We soon reached a point in the main street down which we were walking, where a side avenue branched off towards the river. My way lay right ahead. Sweep, however, insisted on my taking the road which lay at a right-angle to my course. I felt some annoyance at his persistence, as I was both tired and sleepy; but, having no choice in the matter, I followed his lead. Having walked some two or three hundred yards down his street, he released his hold, dancing round me, then running on for a few yards and looking back to see if I were following. Becoming interested, I determined to see what he was after, so, without further resistance, I followed submissively. At last, having reached the river, which at this place was about four hundred yards wide, he, with many joyous barks, ran down the ferry steps, and jumped into the empty boat of the ferryman. At last I was able to guess at his motive for forcing me to follow him. His master, who lived across the river, had accidentally lost sight of his dog returning from his office in the city; and Sweep appeared to understand perfectly that unless the boatman received his fare he, Sweep, would not be carried over, my friend frequently sending the dog over by himself when wishing to attend concerts, &c., invariably paying the fare as of an ordinary passenger. The ferryman, who at once recognised my canine friend, laughed heartily when I told him how I had been served, took my penny, and set off at once for "Kangaroo Point," Sweep gaily barking "good-night" until he reached the opposite bank. I heard subsequently that he used to swim the river when left behind; but having had two narrow escapes from sharks, his nerves had become somewhat shaken so far as water was concerned.

J. Wm. Creighton.

THE REASON OF DOGS.

[Nov. 13, 1875.]

Having often read, with great pleasure, the anecdotes about dogs which from time to time appear in the Spectator, I venture to send you one which has come under my own observation, and which, it seems to me, shows an effort of reasoning implying two distinct ideas—one the consequence of the other—more interesting than many of those clever performances of educated dogs which may or may not be merely mechanical actions.

The dog who performed the following trick was then a great, half-grown, awkward puppy, whose education, up to that time, had been much neglected. It has been better attended to since, and now, although sportsmen probably consider such an animal sadly thrown away upon a lady, he is a very pleasant friend and companion. My two dogs, Guy and Denis, form as capital a pair, for contrast's sake, as one need wish to see. They are both handsome dogs of their kind—Guy, a fine black retriever, with no white hair upon him, and, I believe, in the eyes of sportsmen, as well as those of his mistress, a very desirable possession, good-tempered, clever, and affectionate; Denis, as naughty and spoilt a little fellow as ever existed, and a great pet, also black, except for his yellow paws and chest, but covered with long, loose locks, instead of Guy's small, crisp curls.

Denis is exceedingly comic, and a constant source of amusement. He is very faithful to his mistress, whose bedside during illness he has refused to leave, even for food; but it must be confessed that he is not amiably disposed towards most people, and is a perfect tyrant over the other animals. Some account of the two dogs' character is necessary, to explain the little scene which took place between them one evening about a year ago. Guy, it must be premised, is at least twelve months younger than Denis, consequently, when the former first arrived—a miserable and very ugly little puppy, a few weeks old, more like a small black jug than any known animal of the canine species, having had the mange, and lost all his hair—Denis undertook his education, and ruled him so severely that his influence lasted a long while; indeed, even after Guy had grown so big that Denis almost needed to stand upon his hind legs in order to snap at him, the great dog would crouch meekly at a growling remonstrance from the little master, and never dared to invade his rights—to approach his plate of food, or to drink before him. Now a days Guy has discovered his own power, and although too good-natured an animal ever to ill-treat the little dog, no longer allows any liberties, but at the same time, when the scene which I am about to describe took place, he was still under the impression that Denis's wrath was a terrible and dangerous matter.

And now for my story, which, it seems to me, shows as much real reasoning power in an untrained animal as any anecdote that I ever read. One evening I took my two dogs to the kitchen, to give them the rare treat of a bone apiece. (Dogs were certainly never intended to make Natal their home, for, in order to keep them alive at all, they should never be given anything that they like, especially meat, and even then the most careful management often fails in preserving them from disease and death.) One of my sisters was with me, and together we watched the dogs over their supper. Guy, with his great mouth, and ravenous, growing appetite, made short work with his, every vestige of which had vanished; while little Denis was still contentedly sucking away at his small share, not very hungry, and taking his pleasures sedately, like a gentleman, as he is. And then Guy began to watch the other with an envious eye, evidently casting about in his mind how he might gain possession of that bone. He was even then, though not full grown, so big and strong that he could have taken it by force with the greatest ease; but such an idea did not cross his mind; he decided to employ stratagem to win the prize. I must mention here, that amongst other naughty practices of my dogs, is that of rushing out of the house and barking violently upon the slightest sound without. This is Denis's fault, which Guy, in spite of all my lessons, has contracted from him. With the evident intention of sending Denis out, Guy suddenly started up, and began to bark towards the door in an excited manner, but not running out himself, as he certainly would have done, had he really heard anything. Down went Denis's bone, and out rushed he, barking at the top of his voice. Did Guy follow him? Oh, dear no! he had no such intentions; he sneaked up to Denis's bone immediately, picked it up, and ran to the other end of the room. But when he had got it, he did not know what to do with it; there was no hiding-place for him there, and he dare neither await Denis's return openly, nor risk meeting him at the door. My sister and I were, by this time, both sitting on a bench against the wall, watching the scene between the dogs, and Guy, after running once round the room, with the bone in his mouth, came and crept in beneath my seat, where he was hidden by my dress, and where he lay, not eating the bone, and in perfect silence. Presently Master Denis trotted back, quite unconscious, and shaking the curls out of his eyes, as much as to say, "My dear fellow! what a fuss you've made; there's nothing there." He looked about for his bone for a few minutes, but soon gave up the search, and began to amuse himself with other things. After a while, I, forgetting the culprit beneath my seat, rose, and crossed the room, leaving him exposed. Guy was in a great fright; he jumped up, and running to my sister, who was still seated, he stood up with his forepaws upon her lap, and the bone still untouched in his mouth, as though begging her protection. Denis, however, did not observe him, and after a few minutes, Guy's courage returned, and finally he ventured to lie down, with the bone between his paws, and began to gnaw it, keeping one eye fixed on Denis the while. This, however, was going a step too far. Denis was attracted by the sound, and recognised his own bone the moment that he looked round. He marched up to Guy (who immediately stopped eating) and stood before him. Denis growled, and Guy slowly removed one great paw from his prize. Denis advanced a step, with another growl; Guy removed the other paw, and slunk back a little, whereupon Master Denis calmly walked up, took possession of his bone, and went off with it.

I am bound, however, to remark that after another half-hour's contented amusement over it, he resigned the remainder, which was too hard for his small mouth, to Guy, who finished the last morsel with great satisfaction. Now that he is full grown, Guy still gives up to Denis in many little ways, but it is evidently through generosity only, for he has proved himself perfectly capable of taking his own part. But he is very gentle with his little playmate, except at night, when he lies across my door-way—entirely of his own accord—and will allow no one and nothing to enter without my command.

Frances E. Colenso.

A CANINE SIGHT-SEER.

[May 20, 1876.]

As a subscriber to your journal, I have observed from time to time discussion on the "reasoning power of dogs." I will tell you what I observed to-day. In consequence of the Levée there was a great crowd in Pall Mall. I was invited by a friend to accompany him in his carriage from St. James's Palace down Pall Mall, when lo and behold, his dog, which usually runs with the carriage, insisting on getting in also. Nothing could induce him to get out, and whilst passing along Pall Mall he amused himself looking out of window at the police, soldiers, and crowd collected. When through, he was glad enough to get out again, and readily followed through the most frequented streets. Now, I have no doubt as to that dog's "reasoning power," respecting his ability to follow his carriage safely through the dense crowd collected around St. James's Palace and Marlborough House.

H.

THINKING OUT A PLAN.

[March 3, 1888.]

Are animals able to think over and carry out a plan? The following anecdotes will answer the question. When in India, I had a small rough terrier who, when given a bone, was sent to eat it on the gravel drive under an open porch in front of the bungalow. On several occasions two crows had made an attempt to snatch the dainty morsel, but their plans were easily defeated by Topsy's growls and snapping teeth. Away flew the crows to the branch of a tree near by. After a few moments of evident discussion, they proceeded to carry out the plan of attack. One crow flew down to the ground and gave a peck at the end of the dog's tail. Topsy at once turned to resent this attack in the rear, whilst the other crow flew down and bore the bone away in triumph.

The same dog had a favourite resting-place in an easy-chair, and was very often deprived of it by a dog which came as visitor to the house. Topsy did not approve of this, and her attempts to regain her seat were met with growls and bites. This justified an act of eviction, and the busy little brain decided on a plan. The next day, as usual, the intruder established himself in the chair, which was close to the open door. Topsy looked on for a moment, and then flew savagely out of doors, barking at a supposed enemy. Out ran the other dog to see what was up, and back came Topsy to take possession of her coveted seat. The other dog came slowly back, and curled himself up in a far-off corner. The above I was an eye-witness to, and therefore can vouch for the truth of what I relate.

K. P.

A PARCEL-CARRYING DOG.

[Feb. 9, 1895.]

In illustration of the anecdotal letters about dogs and their habits, in the Spectator of February 2nd, and Mr. Lang's paper in this month's Nineteenth Century, I send you the following story of a dog which I had in 1851 and for three years afterwards. He was a handsome Newfoundland dog, and one of the most intelligent animals with which it was ever my good luck to meet. I was living in a village about three miles from Dover, where I did all my shopping and marketing, being generally my own "carrier." Sometimes Nep would carry home a small parcel for me, and always most carefully. On one occasion Nep was with me when I chose a spade, and asked the ironmonger to send it by the village carrier. The spade was put by, labelled and duly addressed. I went on to have a bathe, my dog going with me, but on finishing my toilet in the machine, and calling and whistling for Nep, he was nowhere to be seen. He was not to be found at the stable where I had left my horse, but on calling at the ironmonger's shop I found he had been there and had carried off the spade which I had bought, balancing it carefully in his mouth. When I reached home, there Nep was, lying near his kennel in the stable-yard looking very fagged, but wearing a countenance of the fullest self-satisfaction, and evidently wishing me to think he had fulfilled his "dog-duty." My friend Mr. Wood, who was a thorough lover and admirer of dogs, was delighted to hear of his intelligent performance.

"Canophilist."

P.S.—I may add Nep always guarded me when bathing, and always went into the water with me, too, often uttering a peculiar kind of "howl."