He was of mixed breed, and was supposed to have a strain of Dandy\u00a0Dinmont blood which gave him his name. A big ungainly animal with a\u00a0rough shaggy coat of blue-grey hair and white on his neck and clumsy\u00a0paws. He looked like a Sussex sheep-dog with legs reduced to half their\u00a0proper length. He was, when I first knew him, getting old and\u00a0increasingly deaf and dim of sight, otherwise in the best of health and\u00a0spirits, or at all events very good-tempered.<\/p>\n
Until I knew Dandy I had always supposed that the story of Ludlam’s dog![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.eoisabi.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/dog-dandy.gif\" "\\"dog-dandy\\"")
\u00a0was pure invention,
\nand I daresay that is the general opinion about it;\u00a0but Dandy made me reconsider the subject, and eventually I came to\u00a0believe that Ludlam’s dog did exist once upon a time, centuries ago\u00a0perhaps, and that if he had been the laziest dog in the world Dandy was\u00a0not far behind him in that respect. It is true he did not lean his head\u00a0against a wall to bark; he exhibited his laziness in other ways. He\u00a0barked often, though never at strangers; he welcomed every visitor,\u00a0even the tax-collector, with tail-waggings and a smile. He spent a good\u00a0deal of his time in the large kitchen, where he had a sofa to sleep on,\u00a0and when the two cats of the house wanted an hour’s rest they would\u00a0coil themselves up on Dandy’s broad shaggy side, preferring that bed to\u00a0cushion or rug. They were like a warm blanket over him, and it was a\u00a0sort of mutual benefit society. After an hour’s sleep Dandy would go out for a short constitutional as far as the neighbouring thoroughfare,\u00a0where he would blunder against people, wag his tail to everybody, and\u00a0then come back. He had six or eight or more outings each day, and,\u00a0owing to doors and gates being closed and to his lazy disposition, he\u00a0had much trouble in getting out and in. First he would sit down in the\u00a0hall and bark, bark, bark, until some one would come to open the door\u00a0for him, whereupon he would slowly waddle down the garden path, and if\u00a0he found the gate closed he would again sit down and start barking. And\u00a0the bark, bark would go on until some one came to let him out. But if\u00a0after he had barked about twenty or thirty times no one came, he would\u00a0deliberately open the gate himself, which he could do perfectly well,\u00a0and let himself out. In twenty minutes or so he would be back at the\u00a0gate and barking for admission once more, and finally, if no one paid\u00a0any attention, letting himself in.<\/p>\n
Dandy always had something to eat at mealtimes, but he too liked a\u00a0snack between meals once or twice a day. The dog-biscuits were kept in\u00a0an open box on the lower dresser shelf, so that he could get one\u00a0\u00abwhenever he felt so disposed,\u00bb but he didn’t like the trouble this\u00a0arrangement gave him, so he would sit down and start barking, and as he\u00a0had a bark which was both deep and loud, after it had been repeated a\u00a0dozen times at intervals of five seconds, any person who happened to be\u00a0in or near the kitchen was glad to give him his biscuit for the sake of\u00a0peace and quietness. If no one gave it him, he would then take it out\u00a0himself and eat it.<\/p>\n
Now it came to pass that during the last year of the war dog-biscuits,\u00a0like many other articles of food for man and beast, grew scarce, and\u00a0were finally not to be had at all. At all events, that was what\u00a0happened in Dandy’s town of Penzance. He missed his biscuits greatly\u00a0and often reminded us of it by barking; then, lest we should think he\u00a0was barking about something else, he would go and sniff and paw at the\u00a0empty box. He perhaps thought it was pure forgetfulness on the part of\u00a0those of the house who went every morning to do the marketing and had\u00a0fallen into the habit of returning without any dog-biscuits in the\u00a0basket. One day during that last winter of scarcity and anxiety I went\u00a0to the kitchen and found the floor strewn all over with the fragments\u00a0of Dandy’s biscuit-box. Dandy himself had done it; he had dragged the\u00a0box from its place out into the middle of the floor, and then\u00a0deliberately set himself to bite and tear it into small pieces and\u00a0scatter them about. He was caught at it just as he was finishing the\u00a0job, and the kindly person who surprised him in the act suggested that\u00a0the reason of his breaking up the box in that way that he got something\u00a0of the biscuit flavour by biting the pieces. My own theory was that as\u00a0the box was there to hold biscuits and now held none, he had come to\u00a0regard it as useless–as having lost its function, so to speak–also\u00a0that its presence there was an insult to his intelligence, a constant\u00a0temptation to make a fool of himself by visiting it half a dozen times\u00a0a day only to find it empty as usual. Better, then, to get rid of it\u00a0altogether, and no doubt when he did it he put a little temper into the\u00a0business!<\/p>\n
Dandy, from the time I first knew him, was strictly teetotal, but in\u00a0former and distant days he had been rather fond of his glass. If a\u00a0person held up a glass of beer before him, I was told, he wagged his\u00a0tail in joyful anticipation, and a little beer was always given him at\u00a0mealtime. Then he had an experience, which, after a little hesitation,\u00a0I have thought it best to relate, as it is perhaps the most curious\u00a0incident in Dandy’s somewhat uneventful life.<\/p>\n
One day Dandy, who after the manner of his kind, had attached himself\u00a0to the person who was always willing to take him out for a stroll,\u00a0followed his friend to a neighbouring public-house, where the said\u00a0friend had to discuss some business matter with the landlord. They went\u00a0into the taproom, and Dandy, finding that the business was going to be\u00a0a rather long affair, settled himself down to have a nap. Now it\u00a0chanced that a barrel of beer which had just been broached had a leaky\u00a0tap, and the landlord had set a basin on the floor to catch the waste.
\nDandy, waking from his nap and hearing the trickling sound, got up, and\u00a0going to the basin quenched his thirst, after which he resumed his nap.
\nBy-and-by he woke again and had a second drink, and altogether he woke\u00a0and had a drink five or six times; then, the business being concluded,\u00a0they went out together, but no sooner were they in the fresh air than\u00a0Dandy began to exhibit signs of inebriation. He swerved from side to\u00a0side, colliding with the passers-by, and finally fell off the pavement\u00a0into the swift stream of water which\u00a0at that point runs in the gutter\u00a0at one side of the street. Getting out of the water, he started again,\u00a0trying to keep close to the wall to save himself from another ducking.
\nPeople looked curiously at him, and by-and-by they began to ask what\u00a0the matter was. \u00abIs your dog going to have a fit–or what is it?\u00bb they\u00a0asked. Dandy’s friend said he didn’t know; something was the matter no\u00a0doubt, and he would take him home as quickly as possible and see to it.<\/p>\n
When they finally got to the house Dandy staggered to his sofa, and\u00a0succeeded in climbing on to it and, throwing himself on his cushion,\u00a0went fast asleep, and slept on without a break until the following\u00a0morning. Then he rose quite refreshed and appeared to have forgotten\u00a0all about it; but that day when at dinner-time some one said \u00abDandy\u00bb\u00a0and held up a glass of beer, instead of wagging his tail as usual he\u00a0dropped it between his legs and turned away in evident disgust. And\u00a0from that time onward he would never touch it with his tongue, and it\u00a0was plain that when they tried to tempt him, setting beer before him\u00a0and smilingly inviting him to drink, he knew they were mocking him, and\u00a0before turning away he would emit a low growl and show his teeth. It\u00a0was the one thing that put him out and would make him angry with his\u00a0friends and life companions.<\/p>\n
I should not have related this incident if Dandy had been alive. But he\u00a0is no longer with us. He was old–half-way between fifteen and sixteen:\u00a0it seemed as though he had waited to see the end of the war, since no\u00a0sooner was the armistice proclaimed than he began to decline rapidly.
\nGone deaf and blind, he still insisted on taking several\u00a0constitutionals every day, and would bark as usual at the gate, and if\u00a0no one came to let him out or admit him, he would open it for himself\u00a0as before. This went on till January, 1919, when some of the boys he\u00a0knew were coming back to Penzance and to the house. Then he established\u00a0himself on his sofa, and we knew that his end was near, for there he\u00a0would sleep all day and all night, declining food. It is customary in\u00a0this country to chloroform a dog and give him a dose of strychnine to\u00a0\u00abput him out of his misery.\u00bb But it was not necessary in this case, as\u00a0he was not in misery; not a groan did he ever emit, waking or sleeping;\u00a0and if you put a hand on him he would look up and wag his tail just to\u00a0let you know\u00a0that it was well with him. And in his sleep he passed\u00a0away–a perfect case of euthanasia–and was buried in the large garden\u00a0near the second apple-tree.<\/p>\n