Horae subsecivae. Rab and His Friends, and Other Papers

DICK

Still lives, and long may he live! As he was never born, possibly he may never die; be it so, he will miss us when we are gone. I could say much of him, but agree with the lively and admirable Dr. Jortin, when, in his dedication of his Remarks on Ecclesiastical History to the then (1752) Archbishop of Canterbury, he excuses himself for not following the modern custom of praising his Patron, by reminding his Grace "that it was a custom amongst the ancients, not to sacrifice to heroes till after sunset." I defer my sacrifice till Dick's sun is set.

* In The Dog, by Stonehenge, an excellent book, there is a
woodcut of Puck, and "Dr. Wm. Brown's celebrated dog John
Pym" is mentioned Their pedigrees are given—here is Puck's,
which shows his "strain" is of the pure azure blood—"Got by
John Pym, out of Tib; bred by Purves of Leaderfoot; sire.
Old Dandie, the famous dog of old John Stoddart of Selkirk—
dam Whin." How Homeric all this sounds! I cannot help
quoting what follows—"Sometime a Dandie pup of a good
strain may appear not to be game at an early age; but he
should not be parted with on this account, because many of
them do not show their courage till nearly two years old,
and then nothing can beat them; this apparent softness
arising, as I suspect, from kindness of heart"—a suspicion,
my dear "Stonehenge," which is true and shows your own
"kindness of heart," as well as sense.

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I think every family should have a dog; it is like having a perpetual baby; it is the plaything and crony of the whole house. It keeps them all young. All unite upon Dick. And then he tells no tales, betrays no secrets, never sulks, asks no troublesome questions, never gets into debt, never coming down late for breakfast, or coming in by his Chubb too early to bed—is always ready for a bit of fun, lies in wait for it, and you may, if choleric, to your relief, kick him instead of some one else, who would not take it so meekly, and, moreover, would certainly not, as he does, ask your pardon for being kicked.

Never put a collar on your dog—it only gets him stolen; give him only one meal a day, and let that, as Dame Dorothy, Sir Thomas Browne's wife, would say, be "rayther under." Wash him once a week, and always wash the soap out; and let him be carefully combed and brushed twice a week.

By the bye, I was wrong in saying that it was Burns who said Man is the god of the Dog—he got it from Bacon's Essay on Atheism, or perhaps more truly—Bacon had it first.

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