# The red book of animal stories/Greyhounds and their Masters

GREYHOUNDS AND THEIR MASTERS
From the very earliest times English people have shown a great love of greyhounds, although as long ago as the days of Canute, no man who was not born a gentleman was allowed to keep one. It must have been their beauty that made them such favourites, and their pretty, caressing ways, for they have not the cleverness of many other kinds of dogs, though their great speed renders them very useful in hunting small game, and even bucks and deer. An old rhyme puts in a few words the qualities that a man would look for in a greyhound, when, as often happened, he wished to send one as a present to a lady, and was anxious to get the best of its kind. It must be
Headed lyke a snake, Neckyed lyke a drake, Footyed lyke a catte, Taylled lyke a ratte, Syded lyke a terne, And chyned lyke a herne.
When this prize was laid at the feet of the lady, the giver might ask in return for anything he chose, for women at all times have loved greyhounds, perhaps because there is something that reminds one of a lady in their long necks, small heads, and light delicate figures.
No other breed of dogs has been so often mentioned in history, or has had so many laws made about it. Besides the regulation of King Canute, we find King John taking greyhounds as payment for debts, and accepting
WHEN THIS PRIZE WAS LAID AT THE FEET OF THE LADY, THE GIVER MIGHT ASK IN RETURN FOR ANYTHING HE CHOSE
​them as fines. Edward III. kept large numbers of them near his palace at Waltham, not far from Epping Forest, so that they might always be handy when he wished to hunt. The greyhounds have disappeared, but they have left their name behind them, and the place of the royal kennels is still known as the Isle of Dogs.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth a set of rules for the sport was drawn up by the Duke of Norfolk, and by these rules any doubtful question is still judged. The Queen delighted in coursing, which in those days meant the chasing of deer as well as of hares, and even when she did not care to follow herself, used to sit on some high place and look on from afar. The Stuarts, too, always had greyhounds about them, and of course the courtiers shared their taste; and many are the pictures of the seventeenth century where greyhounds have had, like their mistresses, their portraits painted by the most famous artists.
Froissart, the chronicler, tells a curious story of a greyhound that belonged to Richard II., and was so fond of his master that he did not seem to know there was any one else in the world. It was the only friend the king had when he was imprisoned in the Castle of Flint, and Richard believed that it was clever enough to understand things that had not yet come to pass. ‘It was informed me,’ says Froissart, ‘that Kyng Richard had a grayhound called Mathe, who always waited upon the Kynge, and would know no one else. For whensoever the Kynge did ryde, he that kept the grayhound, did let him lose, and he wolde streyght runne to the Kynge and fawne upon him, and leap with his fore fete upon the Kynge’s shoulders. And as the Kynge and the Erle of Derby talked togyder in the courte, the Grayhounde, who was wont to leape upon the Kynge, left the Kynge, and came to the Erle of Derby, Duke of Lancaster, and made to him the same friendly countinuance and chere as he was wont to do to the Kynge. The Duke, who knew not ​the grayhounde, demanded of the Kynge what the grayhounde would do?
‘“Cosyn,” quod the Kynge, “it is a great good token to you, and an evil sygne to me.”
‘“Sir, how know ye that?” quod the Duke.
‘“I know it well,” quod the Kynge; “the grayhound maketh you chere this day as Kynge of England, as ye shall be, and I shall be deposed; the grayhounde hath this knowledge naturally, therefore take hym to you, he will follow you and forsake me.” The Duke understoode well those words, and cheryshed the grayhounde, who would never after follow Kynge Richard, but followed the Duke of Lancaster.’
Among the kings who made friends and pets of greyhounds, we must not forget Frederick the Great, who generally did not waste love upon anybody! He even carried his affection for them so far that he used to take a small variety, known as the Italian greyhound, with him in his campaigns. Once, during the Seven Years’ War, he was out inspecting the ground with a view to a battle, when he accidentally got separated from his officers. Hearing a party of Austrians approaching, he picked up his greyhound, and hid under the arch of a bridge that crossed a little stream close by. The enemy, who knew that he was somewhere about, passed the bridge several times in search of him, and Frederick waited in terror, expecting every moment that a bark from his dog would betray him. But the dog seemed to understand how much depended on his silence, and remained perfectly still, till the footsteps had died away. On the death of the little fellow, some time after, he was buried in the dogs’ graveyard, belonging to the palace, where each dog has a tombstone, and on it is engraved his name and the good qualities which marked him when alive.
Although, in general, greyhounds are not so ingenious as other dogs, now and then one shows himself surprisingly clever in getting what he has set his mind on. ​A story is told of a little Italian greyhound who lived at Bologna in Italy, and was a great favourite with his master. Bologna is a cold place, and greyhounds are often delicate, so a jacket was made for him to wear at night. It was tied on tightly with strings, which were all very well as long as he was lying down in front of the warm stove, but became very troublesome when he wanted to move about and play. So the first thing when he woke he used to run off to anybody in the house who was dressed as early as himself, and jump up on them, and lick their hands till they understood what he was saying, and unfastened his jacket. One day, however, everyone was either ill or busy, and had no time to attend to him, so it occurred to him that, perhaps, if he were to rub himself against the chairs or along the carpet, those tiresome strings would get untied. To his great joy this plan succeeded, and after that he could do without anyone’s help. The moment the jacket was off, and the front door open, he rushed across the road to visit another greyhound who lived there with a family, to beg him to come out for a walk. Very often they would spend hours together running races, or playing hide-and-seek between the arches which abound in the streets of Bologna; but he never missed going home to his dinner at twelve o’clock, and again in the evening.
If his friend’s front door was not open so early as his own, he would bark loudly to awaken the lazy people; but as they were fond of their beds, they grew very angry, and shied stones to drive him away. Then he stood so close to the door that the stones could not hit him, and barked triumphantly on, till suddenly the door was flung open, and a man appeared with a whip. The dog could not think of any way to get the better of the whip, so he walked off to consider what was to be done.
A few days later, he went back to the door and waited quietly till it was opened; but the people had taken a dislike to him, on account of all the trouble he had given ​them; and as soon as they saw him, drove him away. After that he did not go near them for some time, and when he paid his next visit, placed himself out of reach both of stones and whip, and then barked away as loudly as ever.
He had nearly barked himself hoarse out of pure revenge, when a boy came to the house, seized the knocker, and let it fall again. Then, to the surprise of the dog, the door was opened, and the boy entered the house. When he had recovered a little from his astonishment, he crept slowly along the wall, till he reached the very place where the boy had stood. Then he jumped up to try to catch hold of the knocker, but it was high up, and he had to jump a great many times before he managed to catch it between his teeth. It fell with a great bang, and some one called out, ‘Who’s there?’ and, as the dog was silent, came to the door and threw it open. In flew the dog, and ran straight to his friend, whom he had not seen for so long, and received a warm welcome. The family were so much amused at his cleverness that this time they let him stay, and whenever his morning ‘rat-tat’ was heard, it was a race between the children as to who should answer it.
At the time when I am now writing (Dec. 20, 1897), there is an account in the papers of the rescue of a dog from a ledge on one of the highest and steepest cliffs in Dover. Some boys looking down from the top, saw the little liver-coloured creature lying, with a lady’s hat beside it, more than two hundred feet below, and told the police, who said it was quite impossible to get at her. A week passed and the dog was still there, and the boys could stand it no longer. With the help of a man named Joys, they drove footholes into the cliff from beneath, and managed to reach the little spaniel, after a dangerous climb of about a hundred feet, while the coast-guard let down ropes from above, and hauled them all up together. The ​poor little thing was terribly weak from her long fast, and the nights and days she had passed on the rock, and Joys, who carried her home, feared that it was too late to bring her back to life. But the careful nursing of himself and his wife has done wonders, and she is as strong as ever she was.
How she ever got to that ledge, or what has become of her mistress, is still a mystery, and perhaps it always will be. Whether the hat was blown over the cliff, and the poor lady, trying to catch it, overbalanced herself and was carried out to sea, while the hat remained stuck on the rocks, and was followed by the dog, nobody knows, and most likely never will. But the dog has become quite a famous person, and several offers have been made to buy her from her kind hosts, so that she is quite sure to be petted as a heroine to the end of her days.