THE OLD AGE OF A PET.
T T has been the thought of more than one mourner, 1_ standing over the grave of n. wellaloved dog, that it was by some cruel disharmony in the scheme of Nature that man's beet friend, of all the lower animals, should have so much shorter a life than the human span. If only the measure of this lost comrade's days had been as that of certain parrots that we wot of, or of that singular 'Grip,' Barnaby Rudge's raven, which was but a young bird, not yet arrived at the age of ripe discretion, being but one hundred and twenty years old, at the beginning of the story, and was still in the full prime of life at the story's close, when we have a vision of poor Barnaby, spared from the gallows and grown grey ! It is like a "sorrows crown of sorrows" to reflect on the many years during which we might have been blessed with that best canine companionship had such length of days been permitted to this humble friend. Yet we feel full well that no creature of another kind could be to us what a dog can be, and has been ; that no other can look up into our eyes with the same perfect trust and devotion; that no bird, with a horny beak, can give a caress so warmly expressive of love as that lick of the band from the dog's honest red tongue. Perhaps all this most true affection, and these visible and sensible signs of it, are remembered the more vividly because we have lost them, and because the loss is one which will naturally be experienced again and again in the relatively long course of a human life by all who are real lovers of dogs. Even while our friend is with us, it may be that our consciousness that in the common order of events we are bound to suffer the pain of losing him adds a certain pathos to the bond between us. We know that it can be but for a time—say fifteen years, as a liberal estimate, from his earliest puppyhood to the end—and that then the light of the trusting eyes will be dimmed, the joyful bark when we take bat and stick will be silent, and the responsive tail cease to wag. The knowledge that we must lose it all may make the possession the more precious, but hardly makes the loss less painful when the fated hour comes.
In the meanwhile, and especially shortly before the end, some very sad days have to be endured. It is not only that there is the inevitable pain of seeing the vigour of life diminishing in this companion whom we have loved, the zest for the daily walk decreasing, and all the rest of the symptoms of old age which comes so soon: to one who is in heartfelt earnest a dog-lover there is the added sorrow of recognising that this comrade, who is perhaps only the dearer to oneself in his decrepitude, is losing the qualities of youth and vivacity by which be commended himself in his brighter days to our human acquaintance. It has been said by some heart-
less cynic that a dog is like a candle—that he goes out•with a bad smell—indicating, with a truth which should be
scrupulously suppressed, that towards the close of his life the coat of a dog is apt to give off an odour which the super-refined human nostril does not appreciate. We are obliged to admit the truth of this observation when it is applied to dogs belonging to others, though it is but right that we should resent it fiercely if it is suggested of our own. But a knowledge of the fact that any such suggestion is possible touching our own old canine friend makes us singularly sensitive and jealous on his behalf. It hurts us to the quick when a visitor to the house shows a sign of shrinking away from this, or from any other, indication of the old age of one whom we, understanding only too well the significance of the symptoms, love only the better on their account. A slighting word said in disparagement of his appearance wounds us deeply. Of course such a word will be spoken only by those who are devoid of all sympathy and true understanding, but we are more than commonly fortunate if in our human circle there are not many who are thus destitute.
One speaks naturally, as it seems, of the dog in the first place among these poor short-lived companions and play- fellows of man, for surely his place is the first with the great majority of humanity. One knows, however, of exceptions, chiefly elderly ladies, who would claim this first place in human affection for the animal which it is the dog's dearest delight, before the pathos of old age has fallen upon him, to chase and chevy,—the cat. For the true appreciation of the cat it seems as if a special gift or a special education were necessary, and they appear to have been bestowed on the feminine sex rather than the masculine. and to develop with age. In this case, no less, the object of the human affection is disproportionately short-lived. The present writer has to confess himself not accurately informed of the average term of a cat's days, but believes them to be only a few, if any, more than a dog's. So the same tragedy is enacted here, even to the loss of generally attractive qualities, in the feline, as in the canine, old age.
There is a sentiment rather distinct and peculiar about the extreme age of a horse. The horse, even more than the dog, has been the helper of man in his business and in his keenest pleasures. Though less dear than the dog as the companion of a leisure hour, he is even more nearly associated with the most glorious moments of human life. It is only by his aid, perhaps, that a gallant deed of battle has been done, the precious life of a human comrade rescued from certain death; it may be that the gallant achievement has been no more than a triumph of the hunting-field. But it is wonderful, in the retrospect, how large a space a triumph of that kind fills. For reasons such as these, when we pay a call on the old horse in the stall, smile at the ursine weight of coat that he is wearing in token of his well-earned leisure and days spent out at grass, and as we pass a tender hand down those pasterns and fetlocks in search of the suspected ourb or windgall, the sad reflection is bound to be borne home to us, quantum mutalus ab ills, smart and eager of look, glossy of coat, stepping right up to his nose, when he began to show off, to the music of the band. If any mere human being is fool enough to speak an insolent word derogatory of the dignity of his signs of age, all that we answer is : " Ah, you should have seen him once! "—and so on, to the tale that has been told a thousand times; but as for our innermost thoughts of the man and of his folly, they are such that it will be hard for him ever to win again to the place he may have held in our estimation before his heedless word was said. Your equine comrade will last you longer than your canine, but he, too, is terribly short- lived in comparison with the standard of humanity. As a friend whom you may visit in the stable, to give him lumps of sugar and croon to him over good and gay days that are gone, he may endure for a quarter of a century, or even more, though his courageous strength will have failed him long before.
Does this brief category—the dog, the cat, and the horse— exhaust the possibilities of friendship for man with others than those of his own kind Brief as it is, it is exhaustive of the species recognised as giving him the closest and most sympathetic comradeship among the lower animals. Others that make appeal to his affection are the mongoose, meerkat, some of the lemurs, and so on, which have charming and caressing manners, even more than feline. The mongoose, too—Mr. Rudyard Kipling's Rikki-tikki '—is a gallant little fighter, a real helper of man, as well as comrade. We have referred to the beak of a bird as to a hard and irresponsive organ in comparison with the soft, warm tongue of the dog which is so eloquent of affection and trust, and yet, to make true confession, there is something wonderfully appealing ha the confidence which a tiny bird can show towards a relatively colossal creature like a man, allowing itself to be taken in his hand, pecking at him, if it have what has been called "the bullfinch temper," with a ferocity that is altogether ludicrous, utterly fearless, perfectly friendly. It is attractive and flattering to the vanity which is so very human when even such a tiny creature as this shows a preference for one man or one woman above all the rest of the world, starting its little pipe or whistle of welcome the moment that the loved voice is heard or the footfall that it knows is on the stair. And in this case yet again, when the brightness of the hues have been dimmed by years and the quick movements have grown sluggish, the pet is petted only the more by the under- standing hands because of these signs of lost vitality; the heart is very sensitive and jealous of a phrase spoken in dis- paragement of a drooping wing or a bedraggled tail. Possibly, under a scheme of perfect benevolence, there would be an asylum for old age whither the man or woman might retire from the world with the well-loved pets when they pass the years for commanding general approbation. There they might live secure from the thoughtless word which wounds; and in the meanwhile, until some arrangement of this kind can be
perfected, it would be interesting if one could know how many nephews have lost fortunes through an unguarded remark indicating disrespect of the qualities of mind or person of an old aunt's cat.
Previous page
