I went to the mall with Emma and Doris the other day, and all around outside
were dogs, waiting for the return of their owners, who were shopping inside.
There were a mastiff, and one or two collies, and a St. Bernard, a few retrievers
and Newfoundlands, a boar-hound, a French poodle, with plenty of hair round its head,
but mangy about the middle; a bull-dog, a few Lowther Arcade sort of animals, about
the size of rats, and a couple of Yorkshire tykes.
There they sat, patient, good, and thoughtful. A solemn peacefulness
seemed to reign in that area. An air of calmness and resignation - of
gentle sadness pervaded the space.
I left Emma and Doris chained up there, between the bull-dog and the
poodle, I went inside but turned arount to watch them. Emma sat and looked about
her for a minute. Then she cast up her eyes to the ceiling, and seemed, judging
from her expression, to be thinking of her mother. Then she yawned. Then she looked
round at the other dogs, all silent, grave, and dignified.
She looked at the bull-dog, sleeping dreamlessly on her right. She looked
at the poodle, erect and haughty, on her left. Then, without a word of
warning, without the shadow of a provocation, she bit that poodle's near
fore-leg, and a yelp of agony rang through the quiet shades of the square.
The result of her first experiment seemed highly satisfactory to her, and
she determined to go on and make things lively all round. She sprang under
the poodle and vigorously attacked a collie, and the collie woke up, and
immediately commenced a fierce and noisy contest with the poodle. Then
Emma came back to her own place, and caught the bull-dog by the ear, and
tried to throw him away; and the bull-dog, a curiously impartial animal,
went for everything he could reach, including the hall-porter, which gave
that dear little basset the opportunity to enjoy an uninterrupted fight
of her own with an equally willing Yorkshire tyke.
Anyone who knows canine nature need hardly, be told that, by this time,
all the other dogs in the place were fighting as if their hearths and
homes depended on the fray. The big dogs fought each other
indiscriminately; and the little dogs fought among themselves, and filled
up their spare time by biting the legs of the big dogs.
The whole lobby was a perfect pandemonium, and the din was terrific. A
crowd assembled outside the mall, and asked if it was a vestry
meeting; or, if not, who was being murdered, and why? Men came with
poles and ropes, and tried to separate the dogs, and the police were sent
And in the midst of the riot I found it safest to grab Doris and Emma -
(she had laid the tyke up for a month, and had on the expression, now,
of a new-born lamb) - and go to another mall.
The question is, what kind of punishment do you think would be appropriate for her?