Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1858-02-13

from feeling Of remorse is SILENT
When this takes place, and sufficient
time has passed to confirm him in the
new mood in which he has recently en-
tered, I approach him with my hand
extended and open; this l bring near to
him by degrees, and avoiding all sud |
den movements or anything that might
provoke his natural disposition. Cen
orally he crouches, thcnI speak to him
in tones of encouragement. Ii he dis
play a return Of his warlikc propen-
sity, still bring the hand nearer and
nearer to him, telling him to bite if he
pleases, if he is not ashamed to injure
that which means to do him good
Then, perhaps, he will make snap at
my extended hand, which is not upon
this withdrawn, or the jaws would close
with nervous violence, but are allowed
to remain, and the teeth are felt to
touch the skin without wounding it,
I allow him to hold the hand for any
length Of time he pleases, telling him
" he would lose his character if he
were to harm it. That he is coura-
geous dog, and means no hurt, he would
be ashamed to bitc'' And with this
kind Of speech, which the animal may
not literally understand, but the sense
and purpose of which it nevertheless
appears to comprehend, l seldom fail
Of getting my hand safe and sound
I! from the creatures jaw. After that I
may pat him, for all intimacy has be-
gun. He allows me to drag him forth,
take him on my knees, and permits me
any liberty | please to take. l do not
attribute my escape to any charm that
| possess; but account for it simply by
my knowing and respecting the natural
temperament Of the beast with which
have to interfere.
This natural respect for the feelings
of most aflectionate creature, with
such a power Of observation as will en-
able the individual to recognize the
presence Of lamentable sickness in an
animal that has with truth been called
"the companion of the home" shall
at all times enable the uneducated in
such matters to recognize a mad dog,
and, unless luck be dead against the
individual, save him from being bit
ten.
| 1t is no pleasure to dog to 60 mad.
Quite the reverse. Dreadful as hydro
phobia may be to the human being, ra-
bies is worse to the dog. 1t makes it's
approach more gradually. 1t lasts lon
ger, and it is more intense while it en-
dures. The dog that is going mad
feels unwell for a long time prior to
the full development Of the disease.
He is very i'll, but he does not know
what ails him. He feels hasty; dis
satisfied with everything vexed with
out reason, and, greatly against his
better nature, very snappish. Feeling
thus, he longs to avoid all annoyance
by being alone. This makes him seem
strange to those who are most accus-
toned to him.
The sensation induces him to seek
solitude. But there is another reason
which decides his choice Of resting
place. The light inhicts upon him in
tense agony. The sun is to him an
instrument Of torture, which he there
fore studies to avoid, for his brain aches
and feels as if it were a trembling jelly.
This induces the poor brute to find out
the holes and corners where he is least
likely to be noticed, and into which the
light is unable to enter. In solitude
and darkness he passes his day. If
his retreat be discovered and the mas
ter's voice bids him to come forth,
the afecsionate creatures countenance
brightens his tail beats the ground,
and he leaves his hiding place, anxious
to obey the loved authority; but before
he has gone half the distance, kind
Of sensation comes over him, which
produces an instantaneous change in his
whole appearance. He seems to say to
himself, ''Why cannot you let me alone?
Go away. Do 60 away. You trouble,
you pain me-" And thereon he sud-
denly turns tail and darts back into his
dark corner. If let alene, there he will
remain perhaps frothing a little at
the mouth, and drinking great deal Of
water, but not issuing from his hiding
place to seek after food. His appetites
are altered hair, straw, dirt, filth, ex-
crement, rags, tin, shavings, stones, the
most nolsome and unnatural substances
are then the dellcacies for which the
poor dog, changed by disease, longs,
and swallows in hope to ease burning
stomach. He is now altogether changed.
Still he does not desire to bite mankind;
he rather endeavors to avoid society;
he takes long journeys Of thirty or forty
miles in extent, and heightened by all
kinds Of accidents, to vent his restless
desire for motion. When on these
journeys he does not walk. This would
be too formal and measured a pace for
an animal whose whole frame quivers
with excitement. He does not rum
That would be too great an exertion for
an animal whose body is the abode Of
deadly sickness. He proceeds in a
slouching manner, in kind Of trot
movement neither run nor walk, and his
aspect is detected. His eyes do not
glare and stare, but they are dull and
retracted. His appearance is very char
acteristic, and if once seen, can never
afterwards be mistaken. In this sta. e
he will travel the most dusty roads, his
tongue hanging dry from his open
month, from which, however, there
drops no foam. His course is not