Susan and Johnnie
BY BERNARD DARWIN.
ON the grass plot outside my window I can see an enormous Alsatian puppy—she is almost full-grown now—learning to do tricks for pieces of dog-biscuit. It is no doubt unreasonable to be surprised, and yet it is surprising to see one so large not merely .descending to such trivialities but learning so quickly. We are apt to believe that the very large must be very stupid ; a mistake, by the way, into which our fighting-men seem to have fallen in believing that Camera could not learn to box. Yet here is Susan, giving a vast paw, dying for the King and doing other more subtle things. Moreover, she is acquiring these accomplishments more easily than Johnnie, the black spaniel, whose tricks have been for years the pride of the house and a very present help to tea-time conversation in case of callers.
This is the more remarkable because Susan has not the incentive of greediness. She accepts her reward, but in a passionless manner, and is moved rather by a desire to please her friends. She would much prefer to play with her ball or raid the honSe forlaocits, and if told to lie down always hopes that this is not a prelude to biscuit but to some lovely prancing game. Johnnie, on the other hand, though he has the soul of an artist, is spurred on to exhibit his art purely by greed, a greed so intense that sometimes his desire hinders itself, and the low growl, which is the proper reply to " Ask for it," sticks in his throat. The attempt to teach him a fresh trick always produces a crisis of nerves, in which he runs frantically through all his repertory, hoping that it is one of these old . ones that is being demanded, though under some silly new name. It is greed, too, which sometimes makes his performances imperfect in technique. He is ready and willing to do anything so long as he can keep his eye on the prize, but to take it off even for a second is almost too much. It is terribly hard, for instance, in " Are you shy ?•" Down goes the black muzzle prayerfully between the paws ; the stumpy pendulum of his tail swings less and less and for a flash is still, but there is a truant eye that will look upwards. It is hardest of all in what may be termed in the language of the circus his " sensational act." This is called " What kind of pudding are you ? " and the answer is given by rolling swiftly over. Here you must lose sight of the prize. for one agonizing moment, unless you are close to the leg of a chair, when you can roll only half-way over, without removing the eye, and pretend that you cannot get any further. I have in that last sentence put you, the reader, in Johnnie's place, and I ask you to consider how you would like it if a piece of cheese might vanish, heaven knows where, when you turned your back on it.
It seems odd that though goaded by so frenzied a desire for reward, the artist should never volunteer a per- formance. There are dogs of immeasurably inferior intellect who will do that. They sit up without any encouragement and refuse to desist. Even the stupidest and most heavenly of all Irish terriers, who could only learn half one trick, to give a left paw but never a right one, even poor, dear Pat would proffer that pathetic paw unbidden, but this Johnnie will never do. He will hint in unmistakable snufflings that he is only waiting to be asked ; he will gaze at you with an eye to melt a heart of stone, but still with infinite reproach he waits and waits. It is true that he " goes to his little house," which is the first floor of the sideboard, and that this is a recognized trick, but when he goes there without being told he does so no longer in a professional capacity, and has ceased to hope for payment ; he goes there because it commands a view of the table, and he can rest like some sad onlooker at life who has renounced its gaieties but likes to sit on the bank and watch those still enjoying themselves in mid-stream. \ I feel rather jealous on Johnnie's bl alf when I hear 4it that this impudent young giantess of usan has learnt the roly-poly pudding trick in less tilan no time. With Johnnie it was a matter of stages. First of all he died for the King, and then when lying prone he was forcibly rolled over, while the word " pudding " was dinned into his ears. Now I am told that Susan, who does not pay much attention to words, can do it merely in response to a roly-poly gesture of the hand. If this be so I shall almost have to throw up the sponge for Johnnie, but at present I am resolved not to believe it. It must have been in the nature of a fluke. Furthermore, if it really did happen, is there not something un-dogly in such extreme facility ? I am sure Pat would have thought so, and he, fighter and chicken-slayer though he was, was yet cast in the very mould of all the dogly qualities. A reasonable cleverness is all very well. So much lie would have admitted, although he knew he was not clever himself. Everybody should on an emergency be able to give a paw and perhaps even to sit up, but he would never have approved of a lady's education going further than that. I love Susan's smile and her waving tail, and I rather like her prancing at me as if she were going to knock:me down, but it will never do. to have her turning out a positive blue-stocking and putting gentlemen's noses out of joint.
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