WAGGA-WAGGA.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR.']
Sin,—Though you could not tire me personally with any number of anecdotes of dogs, yet it has struck me that non-dog lovers must sometimes be inclined to grumble at the devotion of so much space in the paper they value so greatly to matters canine. Nevertheless, I feel that it would be gross injustice to my present beloved little companion to deny him fame and immortality from any unmanly fear of your in-canine readers.
Wagga-Wagga, then, is, I fear, not thorough-bred, but pro- bably for that very reason more beautiful and intelligent than those whose blue-blood has no infusion of new blood. He has a thick, silky, curly, grey coat, with a collar of jet-black hair, and a wicked little auburn moustache on the end of his knowing little nose. He hunts all day in the New Forest with a little companion, Punch, a rough, yellow, through-bred Scotch terrier, captivat- ing by qualities that endear, without shining, in a manner that would warrant a trespass on the attention of the public in his behalf. Wagga-Wagga is the property and constant companion of a gentleman devoted to art, and very early in his career assumed voluntarily very onerous duties. His master, leaving his work one day and retiring to some distance to eat his lunch and smoke a pipe under a tree, was surprised to see Wagga lie down near his camp-stool, instead of accompanying him, and though wist- fully following his master with his eyes and a pathetic look, never offering to move. From that time he has constituted him- self the anxious guardian of easel and stool during all absences of their owner, and it is touching to see his faithfulness when per- Imps a large and merry party are laughing and talking not far off, often with a couple of other dogs in company, and with good things to eat going freely round. But what I want to impress upon you, Sir, is that this duty was strictly sell-imposed. Another instance of unusual sagacity in Wagga—and which is irresistibly comic to on-lookers—is the practice of a method he has discovered for ascertaining the whereabouts of friend or foe in the forest, while he himself is almost lost in the tall bracken or heather. He squats hastily on his haunches, and stretching his neck to its utmost limits, takes a rapid but thorough survey of the neighbourhood, and having thus ascertained and mastered his bearings, makes off at full speed in the desired direction. On one occasion, when even by this means he was unable to gain his purpose, he jumped on to the trunk of a fallen tree, and from this elevated position looked round over the tall undergrowth, with the air of one who has overcome a serious difficulty.
At dinner-time—and this is Ms pet wickedness, of which no discipline or experience cures him—he gives way to most unseemly and impatient indignation against the waitresses for serving every one but himself and his canine companions ; and doubtless in the behalf of these latter, as well as for the sake of No. 1, seeks to stimulate these maidens to a recognition of his require- ments by snapping periodically at their ankles. When these polite attentions can no longer be endured, Wagga is borne aloft by a long-suffering but just master, and pushed between the rails of a gallery at one end of the dining- hall. There, at first, he sits in a sulky silence, his soft, silky, fat little back presented to view (Wagga always artistically foreshortens himself in these moods) ; when, however, the company below has ceased to laugh at his discom- fiture, or make him the subject of their remarks, he turns about, and assuming a highly cheerful and sociable expression of face, evidently takes a friendly part in the interchange of thought going on below, his exquiaitively soft and shapely little paws and his intelligent little nose protruding from between the gallery- rails. One word more and I have done. Wagga never growls, unless roughly played with, and so exactly does he regulate the severity of his tones to the severity of the discipline he is under- going, that a skilful player on this live instrument can get any degree of power or softness from it which he requires, modulat- ing the sounds as he likes, down to the gentle cooing murmur of a comfortable baby subsiding into sleep. Trusting you will not " sky " this little sketch of Wagga Wagga, I am, Sir, &c.,
Is; Loco MACUSTRI.
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