Pup, the autobiography of a greyhound

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. PUPPYHOOD I

II. Glimpses of an Outer World . . 9

Chapter I. Puppyhood

Since the events transpired which I relate in these chapters, I, too, have stood in the proud ranks of bemedalled and blue-ribboned dogs that have graced the floor of Exhibition Hall in the midst of admiring throngs, and with my mother and brothers beside me in the same kennel; I, too, have won the insignia of merit and laid a first prize as one of my proudest offerings at my master's feet — the dear master to whom heart of dog could never feel too grateful or too loyal.

I have walked in proud consciousness of my right to liberty, unrestrained by leash or muzzle, by the side of my gentle mistress, safeguarding her steps in many an evening ramble, trusted and beloved and happy; and now that the way of my life lies in the midst of such pleasant associations, 1

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I can but look back at times upon the events that have all conspired to make me a happy dog in a happy home.

There is so much in the life of a dog that is worth the telling, and so much in the hearts of us dumb creatures that ought to be revealed, that I am going to turn story-teller and relate the adventures of my first years, and incidentally lay bare the heart of at least one dog — that of myself, an English greyhound.

There has been a time in my early life when I could not have told my story as I can tell it now: a time when I was a dog of the city streets, vagrant, ill-mannered, and worse nourished; yet, in spite of all, a trifle more dignified than the mongrel thousands that swarm alleys and byways or gather in quarrelsome squads at street corners; a time when I was kicked about “ from pillar to post,” feeling that the hand of man was ready, upraised, and the heart of the world was cold toward me.

And what wonder ! When one must steal to satisfy the pangs of hunger, one is naturally branded a thief, and when one shows his teeth at brutal blows, one may quite as undeservedly get the reputation of “ savage,” however much the heart may be longing for sympathy and love. As the early part of my life was lived under such conditions, I knew nothing of the wonderful life I now enjoy, nor could I know that men were different in kind, as well as dogs.

PUP

My early puppyhood was a profound mystery to me. In fact, the first few weeks of it were spent mostly in sleep, — the few waking moments being devoted chiefly to eating and to waddling about the room trying to get a bit of strength in my trembling legs. About all the sensations I was conscious of were those of hunger when I awoke, and weariness after a brief toddling effort about the room, both of which were soon drowned in sweet slumber at my mother’s side.

My brain was yet too young to receive impressions of my surroundings, but it happened that I became conscious one day that a change of some kind had come into my life. I was hungry without being satisfied, and cold without that something that used to be so soft and warm to cuddle against.

There was some sort of an attempt to feed me — a most disagreeable process ; a great coarse man every now and then grasped me in his heavy hand and dipped my nose into a shallow pan having something in it that I afterward learned was milk. But it was so cold, and it tickled my nose so, that I sneezed and sneezed and struggled to get free; then, with loud, rough words, which I think must have been profanity, he would chuck me into a cold corner amongst some foul-smelling mats and leave me, still hungry and cold, and whining to be made comfortable. After this operation had been repeated a few times, I accidentally discovered, in lapping the stuff from about my nose after it

PUP had been so roughly ducked in the dish, that this strange food really tasted very good to the halffamished little wretch I had come to be; not like the warm, sweet mother’s-milk, but something that would at least ease that dreadful gnawing at my heart — or somewhere inside me — I really couldn’t exactly locate it then, for it seemed to me I was miserable all over. So, after a few days, I was lapping milk from my little pan quite neatly, only sneezing once in a while when I happened to lose my balance, and, toppling forward, plunged my nose to the bottom.

I was kept pretty well fed now that I could drink from my pan, and only felt hungry when my master came in now and then sick, and tumbled into another corner to sleep, without remembering my supper.

Knowing nothing of men’s ways then, how could I know that he was drunk?

I had grown quite fast, and grown strong, during these weeks, and now began to look for some amusement. I was still shut in the room and knew nothing of the outside world, save what glimpses I caught through a small window high above my head: for it seems that I was confined in a basement — a low, dark, underground place, where my master came only to feed me and to sleep after his day’s work was over. Occasionally a dog on the sidewalk would stop and look in, sniff, and bark, and disappear; sometimes two or three would come

PUP together, and thus I came to know that I was in some way a prisoner; that there was an outside world to which I had no access, and many dogs of different kinds, and that all played together.

Naturally, I felt lonely and longed for liberty and companions.

Gradually, a vague sense of once having cuddled down among other little fellow creatures came over me, and I realized I had been taken from them — taken from my mother and brothers. I wanted to get out of this dark room; I wanted some one to play with. Once in a while I ventured to frolic about my master: sometimes he was good-natured and amused me for a long time; again he kicked and swore, and drove me off trembling to my corner.

To beguile my loneliness, I took to stripping up the mats with my teeth. It was fun to hear the sound of tearing and to see the rags fly about. Once, some live thing ran across the room, and I chased it into a hole in the corner, — it was a rat, but I did not know it then, — and once, when my master was asleep, and I had capered about him and nipped his fingers, and coaxed him for a frolic without succeeding in awakening him, — I suppose he was drunk, — I caught sight of his hat on the floor. I had great sport with this for awhile, biting it, shaking it, and ransacking about the room until the hat was in shreds and I was tired out.

But the terrible curses of my master when he

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PUP awoke, and the cuffs he gave me, terrified me so that I never touched his hat again. I took a shoe next time, — but that didn’t seem to please him, either, and I got only more curses and cuffs.

A puppy must have something to do, as well as boys and girls, and so I took to watching the hole in the corner, hoping the rat would come out again. I sniffed around it and yapped into it, hoping to scare the thing out, but it wouldn’t come for either coaxing or threatening. Disgusted with my repeated failure to rout either friend or enemy from the rat-hole, I turned confidently to my little window; here, at least, a dog would come again sometime, I knew. Perhaps I might even coax one down through the old screen through which the dust-loaded air sifted into our cellar. Anything was better than an empty rat-hole, or sniffing about the pile of dirty old mats that constituted my bed in the corner; so I laid persistent siege to the window. I squatted upon my haunches underneath it and pitched my puppy voice high. I can’t remember exactly the words I used, but this is what I tried to say:

“ Hello, you fellows up there ! Come down and see a poor, miserable little cur, can’t you? Hello! Hello ! ! Hello ! ! ! ” and thus I kept up a continual fire of “ hellos ” until, at last, a big black muzzle was thrust against the screen, and a gruff voice barked back at me — you see the owner was past the yapping age:

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“ Hello, youngster! What’s up down cellar? Bow, wow, wow! What are you shut up in that dark hole for? Can’t you get out? It’s lots more fun out here where the rest of us fellows are ! ” How I leaped and wiggled and yapped when I saw the big, friendly face!

“Don’t you suppose I know that?” I whined. “ Do you think I would stay here if I could get out ? Don’t go off and leave me ! Can’t you break through and come down ? ”

“ Can’t,” the big black dog barked back ; “am afraid of some trap. Can’t you jump up here and get out ? ”

I tried ; I leaped frantically against the side of the wall, ran back and forth and yapped and yelped and whined; but I couldn’t jump high enough, and even had I reached the window-ledge I very greatly doubt if I could have forced the screen. Men have such a way of fixing things!

After a few days I gave up trying to get out by the window. All my leaping against the wall resulted in nothing save utter weariness, unless — as I am quite sure it did now that I look back upon it — the exercise strengthened my legs, which was quite providential, since I depended upon them so much later on, to get me out of various scrapes. But the yapping, I found, brought me friends ; so I decided to keep it up. I yapped all day and a good part of each night; I yapped whenever I

PUP thought of it, until it became so much of a habit that I frequently gave a yap in my dreams.

Do not suppose that this step on my part brought me into no difficulty : I more than once fled yelping to my corner from a vicious kick in the ribs; I dodged my master’s flying shoes or an empty whiskey-flask, and trembled at the oaths poured from his half-drunken lips. But when, in addition to my other grievances, I was left for two days at a time without food, I felt that I must continue my cry for liberty and companionship.

I am sure, now that I look back over the events of these days, at the circumstances as they occurred in order, that it was about this time my master was discharged from his position as coachman to a gentleman in the suburbs of Boston; that the prolonged debauches at home were during his days of idleness when he was drinking up the last dollar of his earnings.

But it was to one of these insensate drunks that I owe my first sniff of the air of freedom; also a little adventure that is perhaps worth the telling.

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Chapter II. Glimpses Of An Outer World

It had been a warm, stifling day in my basement prison. I had had nothing to eat or drink since the evening before, and my master was lying in a wretched heap in his corner, arousing only now and then to drink from a black bottle at his side, too stupid, even, to notice my yapping. I had cried myself hoarse for the friendly faces that often came to my window for a neighbourly greeting. I was half-distracted with hunger and thirst and confinement, and night was at hand, when a cheery face, with a whistle in it, peered down through the screen at me, and a jolly, gay voice called out, “ Hello, pup ! ” and a lot more which I could not understand then. I had not learned much of the language of men except oaths, never having seen any one save my master, and hearing only the voices of passers-by through the rattle and tramp of the street. This face was much smaller than my master’s, and it was the body of a very little man. Of course, I should now know at once that so very small a creature was a boy, but this was

PUP the first one I had seen and he appeared rather queer to me. However, he looked so jolly, and there was such a friendly ring in his voice, I was overjoyed to see him. I soon made him understand I was in trouble.

Boys, as well as dogs, have odd tricks of getting around wherever they wish to go, and so in some mysterious manner he managed the alley and high picket-fence of the back yard and walked in upon me in my desolation, and my master in his drunken stupor.

I do not recollect any subsequent moment of my life when more supreme joy entered my soul than when I found myself in the arms of this strange new friend. It was the first shock of a bliss destined to be as brief as it had been sudden.

I wish I could have understood his words to me, but the hugs and pats, and the crooning voice, that I so well remember, I am sure I can put into words, now that I have learned so much of the common language of men.

I wiggled and leaped all over him and lapped his chin and thrust my little damp nose into his hand, and coaxed and cried and laughed in hysterics of joy. He crept over to the corner to my master and peered into his face. He tried to hush my noisy welcome, and then, with me under his arm, he stole on tiptoe out into the garden once more, and, swinging aside a loose picket in the fence, crept

PUP through and ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the alley.

I felt a great bewilderment steal over me. I was in such a strange, vast world ! Great buildings loomed up. The wonderful brightness and space over my head, so unlike the low, black ceiling of my cellar! The long streets with many men — both big like my master, and little like my new friend — and other queer-looking people that were much like men except in their dress — I know them now to be women! Then the dogs: black dogs and yellow dogs, — big dogs and small dogs, — dogs led by chains and some little ones carried in arms by the women, as I was being carried by my new friend ! Oh, it was all very wonderful ! And I kept very quiet at first. Presently I espied my old friend of the black face and shiny, shaggy fur, and called out, “ Hello, hello ! Here I am out ! ” and struggled and whined to be put down. But I was held firmly in my rescuer’s arms, who, I am sure, knew there was danger of a poor, ignorant little puppy like me getting lost in the confusion of so many things I knew nothing about.

Thus was I carried through many streets, turning and crossing, and pushing through throngs of people, and dodging carriages, — all completely bewildering to my poor puppy brain, — until we finally came to a handsome house under many trees, with steps leading up to a wide entrance.

This was Tom’s home.

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I did not realize how unfit I was, in my dirty coat, to leap into a lady's lap or stick my dusty nose into a gentleman’s moustache or tear about over rich carpets and furniture; and, after much such disastrous exhibition of joy, I was hustled off to the kitchen.

Much that transpired of course I cannot relate; but, when I recollect how I was plunged into a tub of warm water and soaped and scrubbed, and rubbed with dry towels much against my will, and put upon a blanket by the kitchen stove to dry, I can well imagine Tom’s father and mother must have been quite disgusted at his bringing home such a forlorn and ill-mannered little wretch. However, I quite forgot my recent woes of the bath when cook set a brimming dish of milk before me.

Oh, the warm, delicious sweetness of that supper !

Where, before, had I ever tasted anything so delectable ? I remember now — it was when I was still with my mother, — just the same sweetness, — just the same comforting warmth! Why had my master never thought to warm my milk or give it that delicate sweetness ? Surely he ought to know what puppies like ! And my blanket smelt so fresh, and my body felt so clean, and such appetizing odours pervaded the kitchen! Ah, this was living! And I snuggled down in the soft folds of my blanket and fell asleep from sheer content.

When at last I awoke, my coat was dry.

Tom stood over me, holding a soft, furry creature

PUP in his arms just about as big as the thing that had scuttled across my cellar floor, some plaything that he had brought me, I supposed, and, jumping out from under my blanket, I leaped up to it and yapped saucily in its face. Horrors! How was I to know any difference between a rat and a kitten, especially when I had never seen a kitten before, and but just one lone rat in all my puppyhood? How was I to know anything of the unfriendly spirit of dumb creatures, when all I had seen of dogs had been so kind? I knew men were cruel — that is, some men. But this spiteful little wretch in Tom’s arms humped its back, bristled its tail, and hissed, “ Sf-s-s-s-st ! Get out of here ! ” I was so astonished and shocked that I tucked my tail between my legs and slunk back into my blanket. I think Master Tom was ashamed of the kitten’s rudeness to his guest, for he took me back into the parlour, where I am glad to remember there was no serious misbehaviour on my part.

That night I passed in blissful slumber, snuggled warm and contented, in the arms of Tom.

Then the day came again — a day of such indescribable happiness, in contrast to which the recollection of those that followed until I was a year old still fills my dreams with such unspeakable terror that I often awake yelping and trembling. I seem to feel the same old cruel blows, the pangs of hunger ; and again loneliness envelops me, until, aroused from my nightmare, I draw a deep breath

PUP of relief to find that they have been but phantasms of sleep.

Throughout all that perfect day with Tom never a foreboding of change entered my careless puppy head. I raced madly over the green sod of the wide back garden, tumbling about with Tom, who was as gay as myself. I pulled and bit at the grassy turf ; I leaped in sheer joy of freedom. Oh, the delicious intoxication of sweet-smelling air, and sunlight and liberty!

I hung stubbornly back when they coaxed me in for dinner; I couldn’t afford to eat at the expense of even one moment of this blessed outside world! So my dish was brought and set in the shade of a tree, where I lapped in grateful appreciation of what kind friends were doing for me.

I was hugged and patted and admired, until, had my head been old enough to dwell seriously upon a subject for any length of time, I think it must have been quite turned with all this flattery lavished upon me so suddenly.

I did not know that many of Tom’s caresses were bestowed because he knew he was so soon to part with me, for I could not possibly have understood that pity for me, half-starved and forlorn as I was, had impelled him to steal me from my master until he could bathe and feed me, and ease me of some of my distress. But Tom knew it, and he also knew that at evening, at the latest, he must take

PUP me home, although it was but to return me to further misery.

And so it came to pass that at nightfall, tucked carefully under his coat, I was carried back to my master. With a loving hug, Tom thrust me through the fence into the garden, dropped the loose picket into its place again and left me. I whined piteously to follow, but he ran swiftly down the alley and disappeared.

Well, I was out-of-doors at least. I trotted about to see what the place was like. I found some grass, a tree, and a bucket with bits of waste food in it

— cooked food, which I tasted for the first time. Thus I obtained my first knowledge of waste-barrels and foraging for my meals. At last, tired with the day’s excitement, I curled up on the grass beneath the tree and fell asleep. Many hours later, I think it must have been, — for the streets had become very quiet and a big, bright light hung in the sky,

— I was aroused by a noise at the gate, and my master came into the garden. I hoped he would not see me, and, keeping my nose to the ground, I lay very quiet; but, just as he went down the short flight of steps and laid his hand upon the door, he turned and caught a glimpse of me upon the grass in the white moonlight.

“ Hello, pup ! ” he exclaimed, in surprise. You see, I had come to understand these words through hearing them so often.

He came back toward me and stood for a minute

PUP looking first at me and then about the yard, and finally, saying something which I could not understand, he turned again and went down into the house. I think he must have come to the conclusion that I had not been out of the yard at all, and, since it seemed safe, he would let me stay where I was, possibly remembering the nights he had been kept awake by my yapping and glad to sleep in peace if I were only secure somewhere.

This ended my constant confinement indoors, and likewise my days of hunger were past ; for if master, during his now frequent drunks, neglected to feed me, I could always resort to the waste-bucket, while a kind-hearted though not very tidy woman often set out a pan of water for me to drink.

I found things pretty interesting these few following weeks, although I was restless shut behind a fence when other dogs appeared to have all their freedom.

Dear old Newfoundland soon recognized my voice around the corner and found his way to my new quarters. It was so good to see his shiny, black face once more, and so much nearer than when he had to peer down into my dark and gloomy cellar. Now we could rub noses through the pickets in a most affectionate greeting.

Soon other neighbours came to call : among them a bright little terrier, sleek and fat, with a handsome, nail-studded collar about her neck — quite dapper and proud she looked. With these I had

PUP many an interesting chat, and they whined in sympathy over my imprisonment and would gladly have come inside.

There were other dogs I did not like as well: one in particular — a yellow creature, with short, bristling hair ' and snappy eyes, who was always picking a quarrel with the terrier until she refused to play with him.

There were other visitors than dogs came to my yard. One day, soon after I was allowed to remain out-of-doors, a cat came from out the house and walked around and finally approached me. I remembered too well the unfriendly spirit of Tom’s kitty, so I turned my back upon her, resolving to have nothing more to do with cats. Much to my surprise, however, she followed me, stuck her nose out and smelt of mine, rubbed up against my legs in a most cordial way, and then lay down in the sun near by, purring softly, and went off to sleep.

I just stood and looked at her in amazement.

So there was a difference in cats, too!

Well, I was in no position to ignore any offer of genuine friendship, so I lay down and blinked away at her for a while, to see if she actually intended to be on neighbourly terms, and, finding her sleeping with such perfect good faith in me, I resolved to accept her friendly advances, and I, too, slept in the warm sunshine.

“ Mopsy,” the mistress called her ; and Mopsy and I became fast friends. If I got too frisky

PUP sometimes, she would cuff me gently with her soft paw and reduce me to propriety, and then cuddle down between my legs for a nap.

Ah, Mopsy was a rare companion for a pup!

My confidence in cats was restored. It was not until later, when a big, yellow fellow crept through the pickets one day, that I found out to my sorrow that all cats were not like my dear playfellow.

I thought it quite the neighbourly, good-natured thing to do to welcome the stranger and invite her to play with Mopsy and me, and so I stepped up to her as confidently as you please, when “ Si-s-s-st! ” came the old, spiteful warning, and up went her back in the hump I so well remembered, and the big yellow tail was all a-bristle. I stopped in amazement. Could she really mean to meet me in that spirit? Right in my own yard, too! I couldn’t believe it; I thought she must be just joking with me. So I wiggled my tail in a most friendly manner and stuck out my nose and opened my mouth wide, laughing at her foolishness.

" Yi-i-i-i, yi-i-i-i, yi-i-i! Horrors, what hit me? ” I yelped and fled, tail between legs, over to a remote corner, while the vicious beast took refuge in my tree and sat glaring at me with savage satisfaction.

Why had I never discovered that cats had needles and pins in their paws ! I don’t believe Mopsy had claws ! My nose was scratched and smarting, and

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I whined in pain. It was then and there I made a solemn vow, with my eye fixed in hatred on my enemy in the tree, that I would suffer no cats in our yard again; and I kept my resolution. But didn’t I get some fun out of it, though! I laugh now at the recollection of the mad rackets around that old back yard, and the hours of fun I’ve had barking at my foes and scaring them ’most to death after I had them safely treed. The old yellow cat had cause to remember me more than once because of the dirty trick she played me.

But Mopsy continued my beloved companion; we played together, napped side by side in the shade of our tree, and lapped our milk fraternally from the same pan.

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Chapter III. In Quest Of An Ancestor

I must have been six months old or more when my master came home one night and locked a collar about my neck. All the neighbourhood dogs that frequented the alley wore collars, and I had often been joked in a friendly way about being a baby not big enough to wear one.

But Newfoundland told me one day it was not safe to go out without a collar, as dogs without them disappeared and were never heard of again. So, as I was continually longing to get out with the others, I had also hoped I might have a collar put about my neck, although I think for the most part they are very uncomfortable things. But a most surprising circumstance happened after master locked the collar about my neck: he deliberately pulled off the loose picket and let me out with the dogs of the alley. I was simply dazed with surprise. I shook myself to see if I were actually awake and free. Then I looked up at him to see if he were going to beat me unless I came directly back ; but he simply said, “ Go it, pup ! ” and off I

PUP dashed, yapping like mad in excess of joy. My friends gathered excitedly around. They sniffed about me and examined my collar. It was not so fine as Terrier’s, but it was a collar; it proclaimed my emancipation from raw puppyhood and ensured my safety. It was liberty, not fine regalia, I wanted, and at last I had it in full. I strutted and wiggled and laughed with wide-open mouth, and received all the congratulations most cordially, and at once joined in their sports.

Now I came and went at will.