reflect that in almost every one of these apparently¹ happy homes a pitiless tyrant² reigns³, a misshapen monster without bowels⁴ of compassion⁵ or thought beyond its own greedy appetites, who sits like Sinbad’s awful burden on the necks of tender women and distracted men.  Sometimes this incubus⁶ takes the form of a pug, sometimes of a poodle, or simply a bastard⁷ cur admitted to the family bosom⁸ in a moment of unreflecting pity; size and pedigree are of no importance; the result is always the same.  Once Caliban is installed in his stronghold, peace and independence desert that roof.  
We read daily of fathers tyrannizing over trembling families, of stepmothers and unnatural⁹ children turning what might be happy homes into amateur Infernos¹⁰, and sigh, as we think of martyrdoms endured by overworked animals.
 
It is cheering to know that societies have been formed for the protection of dumb brutes¹¹ and helpless children.  Will no attempt be made to alleviate¹² this other form of suffering, which has apparently escaped the eye of the reformer?
 
The animal kingdom is divided—like all Gaul—into three divisions: wild beasts, that are obliged to hustle¹³ for themselves; laboring¹⁵ and producing animals, for which man provides because they are useful to him—and dogs!  Of all created things on our globe the canine¹⁶ race have the softest “snap.”  The more one thinks about this curious exception in their favor the more unaccountable it appears.  We neglect such wild things as we do not slaughter¹⁷, and exact toil¹⁸ from domesticated¹⁹ animals in return for their keep.  Dogs alone, shirking all cares and labor¹⁴, live in idle comfort at man’s expense.
 
When that painful family jar broke up the little garden party in Eden and forced our first parents to work or hunt for a living, the original Dog (equally disgusted with either alternative) hit on the luminous²⁰ idea of posing as the champion of the disgraced couple, and attached himself to Adam and Eve; not that he approved of their conduct, but simply because he foresaw that if he made himself companionable and cosy²¹ he would be asked to stay to dinner.
 
From that day to the present, with the exception of occasionally watching sheep and houses—a lazy occupation at the best—and a little light carting in Belgium (dogs were given up as turn-spits centuries ago, because they performed that duty badly), no canine has raised a paw to do an honest day’s work, neither has any member of the genus been known voluntarily to perform a useful act.
 
How then—one asks one’s self in a wonder—did the myth originate that Dog was the friend of Man?  Like a multitude of other fallacies taught to innocent children, this folly²² must be unlearned later.  Friend of man, indeed!  Why, the “Little Brothers of the Rich” are guileless philanthropists in comparison with most canines²⁴, and unworthy to be named in the same breath with them.  Dogs discovered centuries ago that to live in luxury, it was only necessary to assume an exaggerated affection for some wealthy mortal, and have since proved themselves past masters in a difficult art in which few men succeed.  The number of human beings who manage to live on their friends is small, whereas the veriest mongrel cur contrives²⁵ to enjoy food and lodging²⁶ at some dupe’s expense.
 
Facts such as these, however, have not over-thrown the great dog myth.  One can hardly open a child’s book without coming across some tale of canine intelligence and devotion.  My tender youth was saddened by the story of one disinterested²⁷ dog that refused to leave his master’s grave and was found frozen at his post on a bleak²⁸ winter’s morning.  With the experience of years in pet dogs I now suspect that, instead of acting²⁹ in this theatrical³⁰ fashion, that pup trotted³¹ home from the funeral with the most prosperous and simple-minded couple in the neighborhood, and after a substantial meal went to sleep by the fire.  He must have been a clever dog to get so much free advertisement, so probably strolled out to his master’s grave the next noon, when people were about to hear him, and howled a little to keep up appearances.
 
I have written “the richest and most simple minded couple,” because centuries of self-seeking have developed in these beasts an especial aptitude³² for spotting possible victims at a glance.  You will rarely find dogs coquetting with the strong-minded or wasting blandishments where there is not the probability of immediate³³ profit; but once let even a puppy get a tenderhearted girl or aged³⁴ couple under his influence, no pity will be shown the victims.
 
There is a house not a square away from Mr. Gerry’s philanthropic headquarters, where a state of things exists calculated to extract tears from a custom-house official.  Two elderly virgins³⁵ are there held in bondage³⁶ by a Minotaur no bigger than your two fists.  These good dames³⁷ have a taste for travelling, but change of climate disagrees with their tyrant.  They dislike house-keeping and, like good Americans, would prefer hotel life, nevertheless they keep up an establishment in a cheerless side street, with a retinue³⁸ of servants, because, forsooth, their satrap exacts a back yard where he can walk of a morning.  These spinsters, although loving sisters, no longer go about together, Caligula’s nerves being so shaken that solitude³⁹ upsets them.  He would sooner expire than be left alone with the servant, for the excellent reason that his bad temper and absurd airs have made him dangerous enemies below stairs—and he knows it!
 
Another household in this city revolves⁴⁰ around two brainless, goggle-eyed beasts, imported at much expense from the slopes of Fuji-yama.  The care that is lavished⁴¹ on those heathen monsters passes belief.  Maids are employed to carry them up and down stairs, and men are called in the night to hurry for a doctor when Chi has over-eaten or Fu develops colic; yet their devoted⁴² mistress tells me, with tears in her eyes, that in spite of this care, when she takes her darlings for a walk they do not know her from the first stranger that passes, and will follow any boy who whistles to them in the street.
 
What revolts me in the character of dogs is that, not content with escaping from the responsibilities entailed⁴³ on all the other inhabitants of our globe by the struggle for existence, these four-legged Pecksniffs have succeeded in making for themselves a fallacious reputation for honesty and devotion.  What little lingering belief I had in canine fidelity⁴⁴ succumbed⁴⁵ then I was told that St. Bernards—those models of integrity and courage—have fallen into the habit of carrying the flasks⁴⁶ of brandy that the kind monks⁴⁷ provide for the succor⁴⁸ of snowbound travellers, to the neighboring hamlets and exchanging the contents for—chops!
 
Will the world ever wake to the true character of these four-legged impostors and realize that instead of being disinterested and sincere, most family pets are consummate⁴⁹ hypocrites.  Innocent?  Pshaw!  Their pretty, coaxing⁵⁰ ways and pretences⁵¹ of affection are unadulterated guile²³; their ostentatious devotion, simply a clever manœuvre to excite interest and obtain unmerited praise.  It is useless, however, to hope that things will change.  So long as this giddy old world goes on waltzing in space, so long shall we continue to be duped by shams⁵² and pin our faith on frauds, confounding an attractive bearing with a sweet disposition⁵³ and mistaking dishevelled hair and eccentric appearance for brains.  Even in the Orient, where dogs have been granted immunity⁵⁴ from other labor on the condition that they organized an effective street-cleaning department, they have been false to their trust and have evaded⁵⁵ their contracts quite as if they were Tammany braves, like whom they pass their days in slumber⁵⁶ and their nights in settling private disputes, while the city remains⁵⁷ uncleaned.
 
I nurse yet another grudge⁵⁸ against the canine race!  That Voltaire of a whelp, who imposed himself upon our confiding⁵⁹ first parents, must have had an important pull at headquarters, for he certainly succeeded in getting the decree concerning beauty and fitness which applies to all mammals, including man himself, reversed in favor of dogs, and handed down to his descendants the secret of making defects and deformities pass current as qualities.  While other animals are valued for sleek⁶⁰ coats and slender proportions, canine monstrosities have always been in demand.  We do not admire squints⁶¹ or protruding⁶² under jaws⁶³ in our own race, yet bulldogs have persuaded many weak-minded people that these defects are charming when combined in an individual of their breed.
 
The fox in the fable⁶⁴, who after losing his tail tried to make that bereavement⁶⁵ the fashion, failed in his undertaking⁶⁶; Dutch canal-boat dogs have, however, been successful where the fox failed, and are to-day pampered⁶⁷ and prized for a curtailment⁶⁸ that would condemn⁶⁹ any other animal (except perhaps a Manx cat) to a watery⁷⁰ grave at birth.
 
I can only recall two instances where canine sycophants⁷¹ got their deserts; the first tale (probably apocryphal) is about a donkey, for years the silent victim of a little terrier who had been trained to lead him to water and back.  The dog—as might have been expected—abused the situation, while pretending to be very kind to his charge, never allowed him to roll on the grass, as he would have liked, or drink in peace, and harassed⁷² the poor beast in many other ways, getting, however, much credit from the neighbors for devotion and intelligence.  Finally, one day after months of waiting, the patient victim’s chance came.  Getting his tormentor⁷³ well out into deep water, the donkey quietly sat down on him.
 
The other tale is true, for I knew the lady who provided in her will that her entire establishment should be kept up for the comfort and during the life of the three fat spaniels that had solaced⁷⁴ her declining years.  The heirs tried to break the will and failed; the delighted domestics, seeing before them a period of repose⁷⁵, proceeded (headed by the portly housekeeper) to consult a “vet” as to how the life of the precious legatees might be prolonged to the utmost.  His advice was to stop all sweets and rich food and give each of the animals at least three hours of hard exercise a day.  From that moment the lazy brutes led a dog’s life.  Water and the detested⁷⁶ “Spratt“ biscuit, scorned in happier days, formed their meagre ordinary; instead of somnolent⁷⁷ airings in a softly cushioned landau they were torn from chimney corner musings to be raced through cold, muddy streets by a groom⁷⁸ on horseback.
 
Those two tales give me the keenest pleasure.  When I am received on entering a friend’s room with a chorus of yelps⁷⁹ and attacked in dark corners by snarling⁸⁰ little hypocrites who fawn⁸¹ on me in their master’s presence, I humbly⁸² pray that some such Nemesis⁸³ may be in store for these faux bonhommes before they leave this world, as apparently no provision has been made for their punishment in the next.