Putting on the Dog

In the ringed and shadowy eyes of animals, more clearly than in the secretive countenance of man, is expressed the mystery, the dark sorrow of existence. Of all beasts, dogs are perhaps the most melancholy in their looks; of all dogs, the slouching basset hound is the most sad. Of all basset hounds, none is more woebegone, more tragic than a certain basset hound puppy. Last week he sat nuzzling his weak chin into the loose bib of flesh which an arbitrary heredity has draped around his neck. In the kennels, at Huntington, L. I., of Gerald M. Livingston, his forlorn yapping roused to dreary derision a crow in the near woods. Perhaps the basset hound puppy heard a prophecy in the dismal utterances of the black bird; what, he wondered, did the future hold for him, a prince of basset hounds, by Walhampton Andrew (titles: International Champion, English Champion, American Champion), out of Walhampton Dainty? The puppy yelped and whined, for he did not know.

More sad, if possible, would have been his looks had he been aware that life, for all princes a prison, is cruel especially to a prince of basset hounds. Had he, last week, been carried from his country kennel to Madison Square Garden, where the 52nd Annual Dog Show of the Westminster Kennel Club was in progress, his sensitive heart must have trembled with the terror that afflicts a small boy when he is taken, for the first time, to school. Unlike poodles or pomeranians, basset hounds are not pleased by admiring stares; they prefer running in the fields and smelling footprints in the grass. What would have been the small basset hound's reaction had the greatest U. S. dog show been carefully described to him, had some crass soothsayer delineated for his amazement an event like many in which he will, there can be no doubt, participate?

On the lowest floor of Madison Square Garden, in long tiers of boxlike berths, sat some 2,410 dogs. Of these, some were of well-known and orthodox breeds; others Afghan hounds, Eskimos, Norwegian Elk-hounds, Pinschers (Doberman), Salukis, Schnauzers (miniature), Samoyedes; 17 were miscellaneous. All were in varying states of trepidation or delight, depending upon their personalities. Those who were in trepidation slept or snarled; those who enjoyed the dog show, as many women enjoy large dinner parties, sat up and preened their coats, or barked merrily. To stroll into this lowest floor, where the dogs were "benched" was like strolling into a rout or reception, as imagined by some satirist whose fancy was for the morbid & grotesque; a tramp would have died, surely & instantly, of fright.

The noise made by the dogs was loud and horrible. A small, stupid child, like many who attended the dog show, reached out a paw toward a vast belligerent St. Bernard who was lounging in his sawdust covered stall, swathed in a towel lest the slobber from his mouth should stain his sleek and tonsured fur. The St. Bernard lurched bellowing at the child; a collie barked at the St. Bernard; an Airedale yelped at the collie; soon, all the dogs were in a noisy fury. The people whose business it was to care for the dogs were never disconcerted; they chatted to each other with feigned indifference to the continued chaos all around them. Many women sat in the bench-berths which had been intended for canine occupancy.

Upstairs, in the arena of Madison Square Garden, the scene was less hectic. A scattering of smart people sat in boxes or strolled about; other people, haggard, dirty, inarticulate, led their dogs about on leashes. The centre of the large oval arena had been squared off, floored with rough green carpet, spotted here and there with dark, irregular circles. Into this place, people brought their dogs to be examined by the judges. It was for the judges, prodding the sparse flesh upon a terrier's bones or stroking the pursed silky ear of a beagle, to decide how each dog or bitch, rated upon arbitrary points such as length of tale, straightness of back, stance, shape of head, compared in excellence with other dogs of the same breed and class. To the one who surpassed his companions was given, not a good bone, but a blue ribbon.

For three days, while downstairs visitors disregarded signs saying

CAUTION

do not handle the DOGS

and while dog-owners led their charges, with some embarrassment, into "exercise" enclosures differentiated with an eye to sexual segregation, the judging continued. Then, on the last night of the show, the great spectacle began. Five judges came to judge five dogs. Each dog had been adjudged the best in each of five groups--sporting, working, terrier, toy, and non-sporting. One of the five, the judges would select as the best dog in the whole show.

The smallest, a pomeranian, Bogota Firebug, minced into the ring on insect legs. Like a mosquito who has been crawling in the fluffy dust under a boarding house bed, he stood, looking up at the crowd with startled, pert malignance.

Meadow Lark Fearnot, a regal beagle, came flopping his ears with inquisitive dismay. The stench of many persons assailed his infinitely delicate nostrils; he would have enjoyed belling at the crowd of 10,000 people or biting a small girl who sat at the south east corner of the arena; these things were forbidden.

The bulldog Sessue waddled smugly to his place. Less hideous than most of his breed, one could see that his ferocious expression was only a disguise, like those worn by murderers in the movies. In private, one could be sure, this dog was gentle & kind.

Black and silver Cito von der Marktfeste, a German shepherd, strode into the ring like a buccaneer. He was tall at the shoulder, his tail swung behind him like a curved scimitar in a tasselled scabbard, his mouth curled with an ironic courtesy. He regarded the spectators with complete composure, his lean face masking carefully but not completely its sneer. Intimidated by his arrogance, the women who sat nearest the ring applauded its proud and villainous visitor.

How different was Talavera Margaret, the wire-haired foxterrier bitch whom Reginald M. Lewis offered as his champion! She was a sturdy study in angles put together with a T-square. Everything indicated that her vitals were made of steel and rubber; her tail, when touched, would snap upward as crisply as a stick of whalebone. Her frisky good-nature was that of a high-pressure debutante; in a day when such ardent and consciously winsome charm is highly prized in drawing rooms, it cannot fail to have its value in the ring of a dog show; Talavera Margaret was judged the best dog in the show.

After this the bulldog blinked, and the shepherd dog exhibited his scorn with a gesture so impolite that it was a definite breach of etiquette. The crowd, however, applauded and went home, for the dog show was over.

The baby basset hound was far away from all this turmoil. Unconscious as yet that his coat is more sleek and warm than that of ordinary basset hounds, not knowing that his dark eyes have in them a more perfect lustre or that his bandy legs have a more effective warping, he slept in the early evening, dreaming, doubtless, of rabbits in which a basset hound delights. For him, there will be a year more of fields and country kennels. Then he will go to his first show. It will surprise him.

It would be idle to suppose that the tiny fraction of the U. S. canine population which last week posed and strutted in Madison Square Garden was in any sense the most important. Other dogs did not pause last week, in the performance of their deeds and duties, to admire the antics of these prototypes. Instead, as if stimulated by such a public display of good breeding, they spent a week of exceptional and most engrossing activity. Aside from their regular business--that of burying bones, digging up bones, barking at automobiles, scaring children, sniffing at feet or tree trunks, running in circles, sitting on their hind legs, biting hobos, etc. etc., certain individual dogs performed astonishing and varied feats:

P: In North Bergen, N. J., six dogs led by one "Wolfe," espied William Kendy, eight years old, with several companions. When one of these companions threw a stone toward them the dogs loped toward their assailants. The assailants ran away except for William Kendy who fell down. The six dogs quickly pounced upon him, bit him twenty bloody times; then, when policemen came in answer to his screech-ings, loped away.

P: In Manhattan, Max, a police dog, watched his owner, one Gilbert Kirkwood, a plasterer, going to sleep with a cigaret in his mouth. When he saw that Gilbert Kirkwood's cigaret had dropped and ignited the bedclothes, Max dragged the burning bedclothes away from Gilbert Kirkwood and put them in the kitchen. Then he dragged Gilbert Kirkwood, overcome by smoke, off the bed and put him in the kitchen right next the bedclothes. After this, Max barked until a policeman came to revive Gilbert Kirkwood and to extinguish both his bedclothes and the conflagration caused by dragging these from room to room.

P:In Manhattan, Sarah Lutkin came home to the apartment where she lived with her husband and two terriers. When she knocked, no one answered, no small dog ran barking and sniffing to the threshold. When she forced an entrance, she found Aaron Lutkin dead, asphyxiated by the gas which he had purposely turned on. Beside him lay the terriers, Jennie and Pete, dead also.

P: In Reno, Nev., eleven Chinamen were arrested in a raid on an opium den. A shepherd dog, owned by one of the Chinamen, followed his master to jail, spent the night pacing between his master's cell and the confiscated opium pipes in the chief of police's office.

P: In Denver, Colo., last week, the county court overruled all objections to the will of the late Fred H. Forrester, who had left his $110,000 fortune for the permanent care of his collie, Shep, for the welfare of all homeless or abused dumb animals in Colorado, and for the construction of drinking fountains for dogs and horses in Denver streets. Dog Shep had refused to eat for a week after Mr. Forrester's death.

P: In Brooklyn, from the Kings County Hospital, Joan, a police-bitch, the property of a doctor, ran away or was stolen by a motorist. Boys and girls in the children's ward of the hospital moaned with grief. Having escaped from her abductor, or having decided of her own will to return to the Kings County Hospital, Joan fell through the ice into a pond on her way home. A policeman, attracted by her noise, pulled Joan out of the ice and returned her to the bedridden children, who were delighted.

P: In Cambridge, Mass., a mongrel dog walked into the hallway of a lodging-house and gave a snarl. So ferocious was this snarl that Mrs. Dominic Spirito & two offspring, Mrs. Hugo Hoffman & two offspring, scurried quickly to their rooms, from the half opened doors of which they peeped down at the mongrel with frightened faces. Eleven-year-old Benjamin Guieto, observing the terrified women and children, jumped out the window and got a policeman. The policeman came up behind the prowling mongrel and shot him dead.

P: In Pittsburgh, Pa., Rover, described as "a large, shaggy, hungry Airedale," crawled into the cold air chute of a furnace belonging to one Michael Cronin. For three days he remained in this chute, barking, scratching, yelping, trying to jump out. At last, annoyed by his outcries, Michael Cronin called the police and the fire department. A member of the latter had himself lowered into the chute by rope; he pulled the Airedale out, sent him home to be fed.

These dogs are, as the case may be, worthless or precious beyond monetary considerations. Not so the dogs who get around to dog shows. There, every dog has a price; as he wins more prizes his value increases, his stud fees or her puppies are worth more money. With this speculative element in the sport, breeding pedigreed dogs becomes a business. Talavera Margaret, for instance, the winner of the show, was when very young sold by her breeder for $15. Later, he rebought her and sold her for $1,250, a fraction of her present value. The prizes offered in dog shows, unlike those for horse races, promise no great profits; these are to be secured merely by owning a dog whose puppies or self will be accepted in exchange for large sums of money by fanciers who wish to be honored by other fanciers.

In order to secure such honors, dog-fanciers, like the owners of racing stables, will sometimes descend to low and disgraceful practices. For example, Mrs. Florence B. Ilch, highly successful exhibitor of collies, aroused the professional jealousy of, it is surmised, an unscrupulous competitor. This competitor was aware that Mrs. Ilch was afflicted with a weak heart, that she had two sons who go to college. Accordingly, when she was on the point of leading her first entry into the ring, the competitor sent Mrs. Florence Ilch a telegram which read as follows: "Hurry to New Haven immediately, son, James, killed in automobile accident, (signed) Roommate." In a state of partial collapse, Mrs. Ilch was officially informed that both of her sons were in a fine condition of health. At this, Mrs. Ilch recovered and exhibited her dogs with some success.

After the show was over, there was an unpleasant aftermath of surreptitious doings which further emphasized the mercenary aspect of dog shows. Someone administered a dose of arsenic to Hi-Point Monoplane, prize collie puppy, owned by one William J. Burgess. So potent was the dose, that Hi-Point Monoplane died a day or so later, to the rage, sorrow, and financial loss of his owner. Someone else fixed a beady and covetous eye on Warily Gang Leader, champion wire-haired fox terrier, kennel mate and spouse to parexcellent Talavera Margaret. While the dog was being shown by her owner, this individual crept to the box wherein Warily Gang Leader was chained, before which a sentry should have been posted. Presumably, then, he put Warily Gang Leader warily under his coat, deposited him in a sack, then put the sack in a truck leaving a back entrance of Madison Square Garden, to avoid porters instructed to let no dog leave the building without properly identified escort. When Reginald M. Lewis, owner of Warily Gang Leader and Talavera Margaret, returned, the kennel was bare. His loss was approximately $2,500.

The obscure and mysterious enterprises in which dogs, all over the world, engage, seldom coincide with the equally enigmatic but less obscure adventures to which men direct their attention. Yet, at each end of the earth, a bone is buried. And for this bone, with equal ardour, under a sky that is like a shallow bell of cold and darkly irridescent glass, across terraced and interminable lawns of snow, men and dogs scramble together. Last week, Richard E. Byrd, famed aviator, spoke of his proposed South Polar expedition. Said he: "I shall take three airplanes and 100 dogs . . ."