Beautiful Joe [51]
humble opinion there's a great lot
of nonsense talked about the poison of a dog's bite and people dying of
hydrophobia. Ever since I was born I've had dogs snap at me and stick their
teeth in my flesh; and I've never had a symptom of hydrophobia, and never intend
to have. I believe half the people that are bitten by dogs frighten themselves
into thinking they are fatally poisoned. I was reading the other day about the
policemen in a big city in England that have to catch stray dogs, and dogs
supposed to be mad, and all kinds of dogs, and they get bitten over and over
again, and never think anything about it. But let a lady or a gentleman walking
along the street have a dog bite them, and they worry themselves till their
blood is in a fever, and they have to hurry across to France to get Pasteur to
cure them. They imagine they've got hydrophobia, and they've got it because they
imagine it. I believe if I fixed my attention on that right thumb of mine, and
thought I had a sore there, and picked at it and worried it, in a short time a
sore would come, and I'd be off to the doctor to have it cured. At the same time
dogs have no business to bite, and I don't recommend any one to get bitten."
"But, uncle," said Miss Laura, "isn't there such a thing as hydrophobia?"
"Oh, yes; I dare say there is. I believe that a careful examination of the
records of death reported in Boston from hydrophobia for the space of thirty-two
years, shows that two people actually died from it. Dogs are like all other
animals. They're liable to sickness, and they've got to be watched. I think my
horses would go mad if I starved them, or over-fed them, or over-worked them, or
let them stand in laziness, or kept them dirty, or didn't give them water
enough. They'd get some disease, anyway. If a person owns an animal, let him
take care of it, and it's all right. If it shows signs of sickness, shut it up
and watch it. If the sickness is incurable, kill it. Here's a sure way to
prevent hydrophobia. Kill off all ownerless and vicious dogs. If you can't do
that, have plenty of water where they can get at it. A dog that has all the
water he wants, will never go mad. This dog of mine has not one single thing the
matter with him but pure ugliness. Yet, if I let him loose, and he ran through
the village with his tongue out, I'll warrant you there'd be a cry of 'mad dog!'
However, I'm going to kill him. I've no use for a bad dog. Have plenty of
animals, I say, and treat them kindly, but if there's a vicious one among them,
put it out of the way, for it is a constant danger to man and beast. It's queer
how ugly some people are about their dogs. They'll keep them no matter how they
worry other people, and even when they're snatching the bread out of their
neighbors' mouths. But I say that is not the fault of the four-legged dog. A
human dog is the worst of all. There's a band of sheep-killing dogs here in
Riverdale, that their owners can't, or won't, keep out of mischief. Meek-looking
fellows some of them are. The owners go to bed at night, and the dogs pretend to
go, too; but when the house is quiet and the family asleep, off goes Rover or
Fido to worry poor, defenseless creatures that can't defend themselves. Their
taste for sheep's blood is like the taste for liquor in men, and the dogs will
travel as far to get their fun, as the men will travel for theirs. They've got
it in them, and you can't get it out."
"Mr. Windham cured his dog," said Mrs. Wood.
Mr. Wood burst into a hearty laugh. "So he did, so he did. I must tell Laura
about that. Windham is a neighbor of ours, and last summer I kept telling him
that his collie was worrying my Shropshires. He wouldn't believe me, but I knew
I was right, and one night when Harry was home, he lay in wait for the dog and
lassoed him. I tied him up and sent for Windham. You should have seen his face,
and the dog's face. He said two words, 'You scoundrel!' and the dog cowered at
his feet as if he had been shot. He was a
of nonsense talked about the poison of a dog's bite and people dying of
hydrophobia. Ever since I was born I've had dogs snap at me and stick their
teeth in my flesh; and I've never had a symptom of hydrophobia, and never intend
to have. I believe half the people that are bitten by dogs frighten themselves
into thinking they are fatally poisoned. I was reading the other day about the
policemen in a big city in England that have to catch stray dogs, and dogs
supposed to be mad, and all kinds of dogs, and they get bitten over and over
again, and never think anything about it. But let a lady or a gentleman walking
along the street have a dog bite them, and they worry themselves till their
blood is in a fever, and they have to hurry across to France to get Pasteur to
cure them. They imagine they've got hydrophobia, and they've got it because they
imagine it. I believe if I fixed my attention on that right thumb of mine, and
thought I had a sore there, and picked at it and worried it, in a short time a
sore would come, and I'd be off to the doctor to have it cured. At the same time
dogs have no business to bite, and I don't recommend any one to get bitten."
"But, uncle," said Miss Laura, "isn't there such a thing as hydrophobia?"
"Oh, yes; I dare say there is. I believe that a careful examination of the
records of death reported in Boston from hydrophobia for the space of thirty-two
years, shows that two people actually died from it. Dogs are like all other
animals. They're liable to sickness, and they've got to be watched. I think my
horses would go mad if I starved them, or over-fed them, or over-worked them, or
let them stand in laziness, or kept them dirty, or didn't give them water
enough. They'd get some disease, anyway. If a person owns an animal, let him
take care of it, and it's all right. If it shows signs of sickness, shut it up
and watch it. If the sickness is incurable, kill it. Here's a sure way to
prevent hydrophobia. Kill off all ownerless and vicious dogs. If you can't do
that, have plenty of water where they can get at it. A dog that has all the
water he wants, will never go mad. This dog of mine has not one single thing the
matter with him but pure ugliness. Yet, if I let him loose, and he ran through
the village with his tongue out, I'll warrant you there'd be a cry of 'mad dog!'
However, I'm going to kill him. I've no use for a bad dog. Have plenty of
animals, I say, and treat them kindly, but if there's a vicious one among them,
put it out of the way, for it is a constant danger to man and beast. It's queer
how ugly some people are about their dogs. They'll keep them no matter how they
worry other people, and even when they're snatching the bread out of their
neighbors' mouths. But I say that is not the fault of the four-legged dog. A
human dog is the worst of all. There's a band of sheep-killing dogs here in
Riverdale, that their owners can't, or won't, keep out of mischief. Meek-looking
fellows some of them are. The owners go to bed at night, and the dogs pretend to
go, too; but when the house is quiet and the family asleep, off goes Rover or
Fido to worry poor, defenseless creatures that can't defend themselves. Their
taste for sheep's blood is like the taste for liquor in men, and the dogs will
travel as far to get their fun, as the men will travel for theirs. They've got
it in them, and you can't get it out."
"Mr. Windham cured his dog," said Mrs. Wood.
Mr. Wood burst into a hearty laugh. "So he did, so he did. I must tell Laura
about that. Windham is a neighbor of ours, and last summer I kept telling him
that his collie was worrying my Shropshires. He wouldn't believe me, but I knew
I was right, and one night when Harry was home, he lay in wait for the dog and
lassoed him. I tied him up and sent for Windham. You should have seen his face,
and the dog's face. He said two words, 'You scoundrel!' and the dog cowered at
his feet as if he had been shot. He was a