OF the various works of man, there are few of which he has more reason to be proud than the transformation under his hands of the wild dog into the domesticated animal. The change was not early effected; during Scriptural times it had made but little progress. The term “dog” is everywhere used as one of opprobrium. “Is thy servant a dog that he should do this?” is in itself sufficient to show that the possibility of the dog being possessed of many virtues had never occurred to the speaker. The dog was, indeed, regarded down to comparatively modern times in three lights only: as a scavenger, as a guard against wild beasts, and as an assistant in the chase, and it is thus that he is still viewed in the East and by uncivilised peoples. It must be owned that the wild dog, or the dog such as he exists on sufferance in Oriental communities, has but few higher claims, that he is by nature but little in advance of his cousins the wolf, the jackal, and the coyote, and that he is cowardly, cringing, and ferocious according to circumstance. His virtues, in fact, are at this stage altogether latent; he has been cowed by a long course of misapprehension and ill-treatment, and displays only his worst qualities. It is as difficult to recognise him as a near relation to the civilised dog as to see the connection between a Digger Indian and a Shakespeare or a Newton. It is, then, no small credit to man that he has discovered and brought out the grand qualities of the dog, and that in making him his companion and his friend he has developed virtues equal to those he himself possesses.

It may be said that there never was a man who possessed the proud stateliness of the St. Bernard, the unerring sagacity of the sheep-dog, or the courage and tenacity of the bulldog. The vainest masher is not daintier in his ways than the Italian greyhound, or more soft and affectionate than the Blenheim. In point of fun and vivacity the terrier in its many varieties stands higher, while in the exhibition of unwearied devotion, fidelity, and affection, the whole race put man to shame. Although rejoicing in undivided affection, the dog is yet contented with an occasional word from his master, he always renders prompt and cheerful obedience, is ready to spring up a score of times from the most comfortable sleep by the fireside in answer to his master’s voice, and is willing at once to abandon the most comfortable quarters to brave all weathers if his owner will but deign to take him with him. He will face any odds in his defence, and will die in his service. Even roughness and unkindness fail to shake his devotion, and in adversity as in prosperity his fealty is unbroken. The dog is a fine discriminator of persons, and while a well-attired stranger who approaches his master’s house will be greeted with silence, or perhaps with a slight wag of welcome, his back will bristle and his demeanour become unmistakably hostile as soon as he perceives a tramp approaching. Dogs are judges of character too, and no coaxing or blandishments will seduce them into friendliness with one of whose disposition they disapprove, and it must be owned that, like children, they are seldom mistaken in their intuitive likes and dislikes.

A flesh-eater by nature, the dog adapts itself readily to the habits of those around. His preferences are for meat, but few things come absolutely amiss to him: bread and cheese, fish, pies and puddings of all sorts, vegetables, and even fruit, are eaten by him with apparent relish, and he needs but very little education to take to beer, wines, and spirits. As might be expected from the analogy of man, the big dog, as a rule, is much more gentle, patient, and good-tempered than the small one. The latter is ready upon the smallest provocation to become excited or pugnacious; he seems to be on the look out for affronts, and ever on the watch to assert himself. The big dog, upon the contrary, is generally quiet and dignified, and very slow to wrath. While careful breeding has brought about great varieties in size, form, and appearance, its effects upon the dog’s mental organisation can scarcely be traced, save for such differences of disposition as are the result of size rather than race. The St. Bernard and the toy terrier, the pug, the poodle, the Dachshund, and the spaniel, although differing as widely from each other in appearance and shape as if they belonged to different families, are yet identical in their possession of the virtues and methods of dogdom. Their habits may differ slightly, some seeming to find their chief happiness in lying asleep on a soft cushion, others in an incessant pursuit of rats and other vermin, some in accompanying their masters to the chase. There are dogs whose greatest joy is a swim, others whose chief object of life seems to be to pick a quarrel and then fight it out. But these differences are no greater than those we find existing in men—even in men of the same race. It does not require a very wide range of acquaintance to enable us to fix upon a man whose tastes correspond respectively to those of one or other of these types of dogs, and, indeed, the list might be almost indefinitely extended. This is not remarkable, since it is man who has made the dog what he is. No such varieties of character are to be found in the wild dog, and even the semi-civilised dog of Constantinople, or other Eastern towns, resembles his brethren as closely as one sheep in the fold does another.

The Red Indian expects confidently that his faithful hound will be his companion in the chase in the country of the Great Manitou, and there are not a few Englishmen who, deep down in their hearts, believe that the separation between themselves and their affectionate friends and loyal servants will not be an eternal one. They would repudiate the idea that there was a future before other animals, unless an exception were made in behalf of a favourite horse; but the dog has assimilated himself so closely to man, has become so much his companion and friend, that it is not difficult to a real lover of the dog to suppose that it too may have a future before it. At any rate, in a comparison between the dog and the man, the advantage is not always with the latter; and few would deny that in point of intelligence, of generosity, and nobleness of disposition, of fidelity to duty, of patience and of courage, there are some dogs that are infinitely the superiors of some men. It was not so long ago that, in discussing the muzzling question, a man writing to a newspaper said, “Better a thousand dogs should die than one man!” There are very few men who, appreciating dogs, would at all agree with this opinion. There are men whose lives are more valuable than those of a thousand dogs, but there are others whose lives would be dearly purchased by that of one dog.

It is possible that if admitted to as intimate a companionship with man, other animals might make as rapid a rise as the dog has done; but there are few so well suited for that companionship. The cat accepts kindness, but declines to be in any way bound by it. It may like petting, and may even run to greet a master or mistress, and follow them over the house; but the cat takes little interest in their conversation, and keeps its thoughts strictly to itself, and its inscrutable face is a mask which cannot be penetrated. But beyond the cat the choice is limited. Rats and mice are easily tamed, but would never overcome feminine aversion. Sheep lack the liveliness necessary for a pet. Cattle are too large for our present style of house; while the giraffe, whose eye is probably the most lovely of those of any of the brute creation, would scarcely feel at ease in a drawing-room. Lions, tigers, and other members of the cat tribe have been made pets when young, but become dangerous as they gain their strength. The monkey is too intolerant of cold to become a pet in this country, and his restlessness and love of mischief are against him. The mongoose, perhaps, if more common, would be the most formidable rival of the dog. It is admitted to possess a high degree of intelligence, to be easily tamed, and very affectionate; but it could take the place only of the smaller varieties of dogs, and would fail from its want of voice as a guard, and be of little use in a tussle with burglars. Take him altogether, there is no animal possessing one tithe of the qualifications of the dog for the various purposes for which he is used by man, being capable of acting alike as a woman’s pet, as a man’s companion, as an assistant in the chase, as, in some countries, an animal of draught, as a vigilant sentry, as a powerful and valiant ally, and as the most faithful and truest of friends.