THANKS.
fTo THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] FIR,—May I be permitted a word in reply to a remark about dogs in your article of May 29th on "Thanks"? It is stated (to my astonishment) that whilst dogs have " their own ingra- tiating way of saying ' Please,' and return us love in the long run for our kindness, they have no formula of thanks, and the dog who asks for his dinner or his ball with every show of politeness makes no sign when he has got it! " I would ask, When does a dog omit to wag his tail with more or less exuber- ance according to the amount of favour received? Still more obvious perhaps, though maybe also less understood of unob- servant people, is the peculiar twist and toss which he will give his whole body when he has been frantically asking to be taken for a walk at a moment when, perhaps, it is not quite con- venient. You pause for a moment, considering, then, unable to resist his beseeching eyes, say "All right; you may come." The unfailing tail will he wagged violently, of course; but he will leap also with all his four feet off the ground, perform a pirouette in the air, and probably give a yelp of joy, thus expressing his thanks thrice over, as plainly as human language could.. If this is not saying " Thank you," there is no sense in the poet's words, "Joy is the grace we say to God." It is literally " une action de grace." Man, indeed, is but too often irreffective in his joy, and forgets to direct it towards his Maker, but the dog never fails to know and to show who is the beloved giver of his joy.
But a dog is capable also of saying, " No, thank you," and frequently does so. If he has had quite enough, and has curled himself up for his post-prandial nap, and you call him by name, offering him a tit-bit usually most acceptable, or if some one other than his master invites him for a walk, when, how- ever tempting the walk may be, he prefers the company of his master, he will open his eyes, and 'without otherwise stir- ring give a single flap to his tail, which is as courteous and decided a " No, thank you," as if spoken in words. We do not call a dumb child uncourteous because he cannot pronounce the words " Thank you," and the dog will be found quite as eloquent in natural signs, although we have not taught him a formal sign for thanks, as we have taught him to beg for saying " Please."
I once found a dog shut into a small churchyard (not burying ground) in Kensington. His imploring eyes showed me he was a prisoner, and I tried to open the gate for him, but found it locked. I knew he would suffer a throb of despair if I turned away for assistance without reassuring him, so spoke to him exactly as I should have done to a human being, knowing that dogs understand a great deal of what you say by the tone of your voice, besides understanding quite well a good many more words than people often give them credit for. I said: " I'm coming back; I'll go and get some one to unlock the gate." I rang the vicarage bell, and a maid came out with the key. I did not want the dog to think I had gone by like the Levite, and some one else like the good Samaritan had chanced to come by after me, so I returned with the maid. As soon as she unlocked the gate the dog darted out in frantic haste, but before going thrust his long nose into my hand in grateful thanks for fetching the key, and then tore off full pace, his legs stretched level like a hare's at his uttermost speed.
May I say in conclusion that in my experience the thing that awakens the greatest gratitude in a dog, as well as best teaching him how to express it, is to speak to him often, simply and expressively, and above all affectionately, exactly as you would to a simple-minded human being? Their special worship is given to the human friend, who gives them the chance of showing they can understand.—I am, Sir, &c., M. D. G.
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