One bright morning in the month of November, 1879, the front door of my house was opened, and there came bounding through it and up the flight of stairs, the most vivacious, clean, and inquiring little dog imaginable. As soon as he arrived upon the second floor, calls came to him from several directions at the same time, and he did his best to answer them all at the same moment; all the while barking and dancing around in the most frantic and delighted manner. Within five minutes 155 after his début, he was perfectly at home and upon the best of terms with the entire household.
The name of this new member of the family was “Phiz,” and his alleged place of nativity Yorkshire, England. In other words, he was a pure Yorkshire terrier in descent, a mixture of blue, light gray, and silver in color; in size a little larger than the average dog of that breed, and, as one of his dog-expert friends often remarked: “He is one of the doggiest dogs of his size I have ever known.” This was literally true, for there never was a more manly and courageous little animal. In his prime, his bravery was far beyond the point of reckless indiscretion, and any dog whose appearance did not happen to please him, he would attack, no matter how large, or under what disadvantageous circumstances. The severe shakings and rough tumbles of to-day were forgotten by the 156 morrow, which found him ever ready for a new encounter.
The red-letter events in his active life occurred in Madison Square, which he would enter as though shot from a catapult; and woe of woes to the unfortunate plethoric pug which might happen to pass his way! It was his habit when he saw one of these stupid and helpless unfortunates to “ring on full steam and board him head-on mid-ships.” For a few seconds after the coming together, there would be visible a comical mixture of quick moving legs, tails, and ears, and a frantic attempt on the part of the astonished pug to emit a wheezy sound of alarm, followed by a condition of most abject submission. “Phiz,” standing over the prostrate body of his victim, head erect, tail and ears stiffened with pride of victory, made a picture of doggish vanity, once seen, never to be forgotten. These scenes, in 157 the warm season, were almost of daily occurrence, much to the chagrin of many pug-loving dames.
“Phiz” only amused himself with the innocent pug (for he never was known to offer to bite one), but he was always savagely in earnest in his demonstrations of detestation of the face-making, ever-yelling average street small boy. And he had no special love for the undersized butcher’s and grocer’s assistant, whom he delighted to attack whenever he could waylay them in a dark passage between the kitchen and front basement hall. Some of these attacks were so sudden, fierce, and unexpected, and were attended with such a volume of snarls and barks, that the grocer’s boy had been known to drop his basket of eggs, and run as if pursued by a terrible beast of huge dimensions.
As the subject of this sketch took on 158 additional years, he accumulated much knowledge, and, by the time he had accomplished the mature age of six, he was far more wise than any serpent the writer had ever known. He had never been taught to perform tricks, nor had been in any manner trained, but by his own observation he had managed to pick up a world of useful information, which proved of great value to him. Among his acquirements he had learned how to make known, in an original and intelligent manner, all the wants of a well-bred dog. He could tell those around him when he desired to go up or down stairs, call for water or food, ask to go out, and give a note of warning when a stranger was coming up the street steps, but he was never known to bark at the like approach of one of the family or a friend.
One of his undeviating customs was the morning call at the chambers of his 159 master and his mistress, when he would first make himself known by a very delicate scratch upon the door. If not answered, then another and more vigorous scratch; still no response, then a gentle bark of interrogation, and then, if the door was not opened, would come a most commanding full-voiced bark, saying as plainly as possible: “Why don’t you let me in?” These gradations from the lesser to the greater in effort and tones, all in the direction of asking for a certain thing, proves conclusively the presence of powers to reason developed to a considerable degree.
“Phiz” was selfishly interested in three things: a walk, cats generally, and dogs particularly; and no conversation relating to these could take place in his presence without exciting his active attention. When these subjects were being discussed he would leave 160 his couch and go from one conversationalist to another, looking up into their faces in the most inquisitive manner, all the while making a great mental effort to understand exactly what they were saying.
