Another episode (Emily and her dog) 

Here is another story about Emily and her dog:
Emily was a remarkable creature. As a child and as a woman, she was in person a mere shadow of humanity, — pale, and delicate. But a wild unearthly spirit dwelt within her, and ever and again it flashed forth through her eyes in a fashion that made beholders tremble. When a child she was bitten by a strange dog, and without saying a word she went to the kitchen, took a red-hot Italian iron from the fire, and laid it on the wounded part. Her pet and constant associate was a huge, tawny, ferocious bull-dog, that some eccentric friend had given her. Every one in the house stood in awe of this brute; it persisted in lying at full length on the clean counterpanes of the beds, but no one save its mistress dared teach it better manners, for it was known never to forgive a blow. Emily, however, resolved to flog the monster. She was small, slight, feeble, and a child in years; but with whitened face, and flashing eyes, she seized the dog by the back of the neck and dragged it down stairs; on reaching the hall, she let go her hold, and instantly the furious creature flew at her throat, but promptly, with her little clenched fist, she struck it in the eye and knocked it back; a quick succession of blows followed — every one of them being directed against the one or the other eye. The battery lasted for several minutes, when the animal fell down stupified, blinded, and senseless; and Emily dragged off its huge carcase in triumph, to foment the swollen eyes. The dog loved her, with a dog's lasting, slavish love, ever afterwards lived obedient to her call, and when she died mourned as weakly as a human creature over her grave.
Source: John Cordy Jeaffreson, Novels and novelists: from Elizabeth to Victoria (p. 292), published in 1858.