TAWNEY, THE TERRIER.
We now come to the very chief of our favourites, our dear dog Tawney.Before he arrived, we only had a setter who lived in his kennel in theyard, and we never petted him much; and once when Papa went away forseveral months, he took the dog with him, so we were without any guard.
At this time a great many robberies had taken place, and houses hadbeen broken into in the neighbouring town. There appeared to be a gangof house-breakers going about. And when Mamma was writing to ourGrandmamma, she said that she quite expected a visit from this gang,some night, as Papa was away, and no man in the house. Grandmammareplied that the best safeguard was a little terrier, sleeping insidethe house, and that she would send her one; and in a few days wereceived a beautiful terrier, close haired and compact, with suchbrilliant dark eyes and of a yellowish colour, more the colour of alion than anything else, so we named him "Tawney." A bed was arrangedfor him in a flat basket, which was placed every evening near the backdoor, and we soon found what sharp ears he had, and what a goodwatch-dog he would prove. If Mamma got up after every one had gone tobed, and opened her own door as softly as possible, Tawney heard thelock turn, and barked instantly. He always gave notice when anybodyentered the front gate, or came into the yard, and we felt sure that nohousebreaker could approach the house _unheard_ at least.
Tawney became our constant companion. He took his meals with us, satunder the table during our lessons, walked out with us, joined in allour romps and games; and was really almost as companionable as anotherchild could have been. At hide and seek, running races, leaping over apole, and blind man's buff, he played as well as any boy, and when wedrove in the pony carriage, he amused us excessively. He darted intoevery door or gate he found open, and in passing through the town hebehaved so badly with respect to the cats, that we were obliged to takehim into the carriage, until we had quite left the streets. If he saw apoor quiet cat sitting at a door he flew at her; and if the cat tookrefuge in the house, Tawney followed, barking and yelping, and doingall he could to worry poor puss. Of course this was not at all pleasingto the inmates, and generally Tawney emerged, as quickly as he entered,followed by a flying broom-stick, sometimes by the contents of a pailof dirty water; and often by an angry scolding woman, whom we had toappease as we best could. Then if he saw a little child with a piece ofbread, or a mug of milk, he would seize upon the food, knocking downthe child by the roughness of his spring; and then we had again toapologise and explain, and regret, and so on; and although all thesepranks were done in the joy and delight of his heart, at starting for agood run in the country, that was no comfort to the aggrieved cats andchildren; and he became so unbearable when in the town, that we used tomake a circuit to avoid the streets, or else as I said before, take himinside the carriage.
Then when we reached the lanes and roads, we gave him his liberty,which he thoroughly enjoyed. How he raced before us, how he sprang overthe hedges and walls, sometimes disappearing entirely for a field ortwo, and then suddenly darting out from some wood or garden! Once ortwice he returned to the carriage with his nose bloody; we could notdiscover what he had been worrying. But it must be confessed that hewas a fierce little animal, and had no idea of fearing anything.
Sometimes he disappeared altogether when running after the carriage,and more than once staid out all night and even two nights; but alwaysreturned safely and in good plight, as if he had not been starved.
We used to wish that he had the power of telling us his adventures onthese occasions: where he had slept; what pranks he had played; and inhow many scrapes and difficulties he had found himself.
His greatest delight was when Papa took him with us to hunt a stack forrats. Oh! what a wonderful state of excitement was Tawney in; he usedto sit staring at a hole in the stack as if his eyes would spring fromhis head, and shaking in every limb with delightful expectation. Then,when the rat bolted from his concealment, what a sharp spring did thelittle fellow make; and having dispatched his victim, would peer up tothe top of the stack and seem to examine so carefully all up the side,to discover another hole that looked promising. If none offered, hewould run off to another stack, and snuffing all round it, search mostcarefully for signs of rat holes.
One of Tawney's most annoying tricks, was his love of fighting; hescarcely ever met with another dog, without flying at him and provokinghim to a severe contest, in which torn ears were his usual reward; butthis sort of hurt was perfectly disregarded by him.
On one occasion, we went a journey to the sea-shore, and Tawney was putinto a dog-box, with several other dogs.
While the train was in motion the rattle and noise prevented us fromhearing them; but at the first station a most tremendous yelping,snarling, and shrieking arose from the dog-box; and, on opening thedoor, the whole number of dogs were tearing and biting each other; nodoubt, having been invited to the contest by our naughty Tawney. Thecombatants having been separated by dint of dragging at their tails,legs, and bodies, Tawney, with damaged mouth and ears, though wagginghis tail and wriggling about with pleasure, was consigned to a solitaryprison for the rest of the journey; and the remaining dogs were left tolick their wounds in peace.
We were anxious to see what Tawney would think of the sea; we hadneither river, pond, or lake, near our home in the country, so hadnever had an opportunity of trying his powers of swimming.
The first day that we went down to the shingle, the sea was very rough;great tops of white foam rolling over on the beach; and we had no ideathat the little fellow would venture into the midst of such a verynovel-looking element.
However, we flung a stick in. "Fetch it, Tawney! Fetch it!"
And in plunged the bold little animal; the first wave threw him up onthe beach again, looking rather astonished; but he did not hesitate totry again. The water being so rough, we did not urge his going in anyfurther, fearing that he might be washed away; but on smooth days, hewould swim out a long way, and bring back any floating thing that wasthrown in; and he enjoyed his swims as much as any regular water-dogcould do.
He had a habit of paying visits by himself, when we were at home; heused regularly to go down the road to a farmer, at some littledistance, every morning about eight o'clock, and quietly return,trotting along the footpath at nine, which, doubtless, he knew to bethe breakfast hour.
Whilst we were at the sea-side, he used to visit a family with whom wewere intimate. Running to their gate, he waited till some one rang, andentered with them; if their business was not in the drawing-room, heagain waited till some other person opened the door, and then hesettled himself on the hearth-rug for about half an hour; after which,he took leave by wagging his tail, and came home again.
The lodging in which we were, was one on a long terrace, the frontlooking on the sea, and the back having a long strip of yard openinginto a lane. The kitchen being in front, Tawney found that he was notheard when he barked to be let in at the back of the house.
But the servant did not approve of coming up the steep kitchen stairsto let in Mr. Tawney, when the back door was level with the kitchen,and only a step for her; and, in some way, Tawney comprehended this;for he used to come to the front of the house; and the area of thekitchen-window being close to the front door, he was sure that his barkwas heard. Then he raced round the end of the terrace, and through thelane, to the back door; and by the time cook had gone to open it, therewas Mr. Tawney ready to enter.
There being no fear of housebreakers or thieves here, the dog wasallowed to sleep in Mamma's bed-room; we provided him with a box andsome folds of carpeting at the bottom, and made him, we thought, a softcomfortable bed.
But Tawney much preferred sheets and blankets, and, my sister sleepingin a little bed in the corner of Mamma's room, he used to wait till shewas fast asleep, and then slip himself on to the bed so quietly as notto wake her; and, getting down to the foot of the bed, would remainthere till morning.
But Mamma said he must stay in his box; and forbad my sister to allowhim to get on the bed.
/> As, however, he never tried to do so until she was asleep, she couldnot prevent it. So Mamma listened, and when she heard Tawney verysoftly leave his box and go to the bed, she got up and whipped him, andput him back in his box, ordering him to stay there.
Several nights this took place; till Tawney had the cunning to waittill Mamma also was asleep, when he crept into the warm resting-place,and staid there in peace till the morning.
When daylight appeared, he returned to his own bed, in order to avoidthe morning whipping, which he knew would come, were he discovered inthe forbidden place.
When we were returning home, we were to make some visits in London; so,thinking it best not to take Tawney, we entrusted him to a man who wasgoing to our own town, with many charges as to feeding and watchinghim.
And when we had left London and arrived at home, there was poor Tawneysafe and well, and extravagantly delighted to see us.
When we enquired about his behaviour on the road, of the man who hadbrought him, he told us that he had been in a terrible fright at theLondon station, thinking that he had lost Tawney entirely.
He had to cross London from one station to another; and there was anhour or two to spare before the starting of the train from the secondstation; so, wishing to leave the station for that time, and fearing torisk Tawney in the street, he tied him up, as he thought, safely in ashed belonging to the station. He was also taking with him some luggagebelonging to us, among which was a large round packing-case, thatusually stood in Mamma's room; these were shut up in a store-house atthe other end of the station.
At the appointed hour our friend returned to the station, and went toclaim the dog; but no Tawney was in the shed, only the end of thebroken rope which had fastened him. In great anxiety he ran aboutenquiring of all he met. No one knew anything of the dog, no one hadseen him pass out of the station; and after fruitless search in all thewaiting and refreshment rooms, and in short through the whole station;he was reluctantly obliged to go for the luggage in order to pursue hisjourney, when, on opening the door of the store-house, what was his joyon beholding the missing Tawney, seated on the top of the round packingcase, that he well knew to belong to his mistress. How he found outthat the luggage was in the store-house, and how he got in, we couldnot of course discover; and it only confirmed us in our opinion ofTawney's intense wisdom. We and Tawney enjoyed ourselves much for someweeks, taking long walks, long drives, and hunting rats in all theneighbours' stacks. We had some fine games in our own field, and agreat deal of basking in the sun, as it was a beautiful summer, withconstant sunshine.
I mentioned, that Tawney used to enrage the people in the cottages bytrying to worry their cats. On one of these occasions, when he had madea dreadful confusion at the door of a cottage containing children,upsetting a tub of soap-suds, dirtying the clean sanded floor, andfrightening an old woman nearly out of her wits, by his recklessendeavour to seize on the cat; a man had come angrily out of thecottage, and coming close up to the carriage, declared with a clenchedfist, and a furious countenance, that if Tawney ever approached hisdoor again, he would kill him. Papa, who happened to be with us, saidthat if he would give Tawney a good beating, it would punish the dogwithout punishing us; and as he was a great favourite, he begged thathe would not think of killing him. Then we drove on, leaving the manstanding sulkily in the road.
Whether Tawney had gone alone to this cottage for the purpose ofworrying the cat, or whether the man had taken his revenge for thefirst offence, or whether he had done any thing in the matter, we shallnever know; but we could not help suspecting him when the following sadaffair happened.
It was a very sultry day, too much so to run or to do anything but lieon the grass, which we did during the whole morning. Papa sat readingon a bench placed in the shady side of the house, and we were on thegrass beside him; Tawney lay roasting in the sun, and, now and then,panting with heat, came to us in the shade, or even went into thedining-room window and flung himself down under the table; some stepsled into the garden from the window, and as the window-sill was notlevel with the dining-room floor, but raised about two feet above it,we had a stool or sort of step inside the window, as well as outside;Tawney generally sprang through, without troubling himself about thesteps.
Soon after Tawney had entered the house, apparently for the purpose ofcooling himself, we heard a tumble, then another, and I got up to seewhat he was doing. "Why Papa," I cried, "what can be the matter withTawney, he is trying to jump out of the window and cannot reach thesill, and falls back again." Papa came to see, and again the dog madean ineffectual spring at the low window-sill. Papa lifted him out intothe garden, saying he supposed he had half blinded himself with lyingso long in the hot sunshine. But we continued to watch him, andpresently we saw his limbs twitching in a sort of fit, and he ranwildly about us. Papa called to the gardener, and they took him intothe stable, forbidding us to approach him, as they feared he was goingmad; they dashed water over him as he lay exhausted on the straw in thestable; but soon the fits became more and more violent, and our poordog in a few hours was dead.
A man that examined him by Papa's desire, said there was no doubt thathe had been poisoned by strychnine. He might have picked up somethingso poisoned while running in the roads, or it might have been purposelydone by the angry man to whom I alluded. We never found out the mannerin which it had been administered, and could only regret most heartilythe loss of our dear playfellow. We had not another dog for a very longtime, and never shall love one so well as Tawney.