The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1882-08-25
A Story for Dog DAYS.
BY HON. A. b. RICHMOND.

startled the denizens of street in
our city one summer evening. II
was taken up and repeated by every
vagabond throat and slanderous
tongue along the thoroughfare and all
the inhabitants rushed to the doors to
see this common enemy of mankind.
From my window l saw a large
pacific looking dog deliberately trot-
ting al ong the centre of the roadway.
He wa dusty and travel stained, and
his lolling tongue showed he was
weary and overcome with the heat of
the day-perhaps the instincts of self
preservation led him to choose the
middle of a street whose sides were
lined with beer saloons-and throng-
ed with the travelling public" for
whose comfort they are licensed
with dropping head the dog proceed
ed on his way seemingly unconscious
of the clamor that followed him.
What first gave rise to the suspi-
cion that he was mad, or who first
started the cry, none knew or stopped
to enquire, but the SANDER was re-
peated in stentorian accents by all
who heard it. He passed two squares
in safety, assailed only by the yelp of
the mob that thronged the sidewalk,
till, as he passed saloon one of the
inmates hurled stone beer bottle at
him, this was more than the noble
animal could stand, he turned toward
his assailant with a growl that made
the valient crowd retreat within the
saloon and take refuge behind the
counter. The dog followed to the
door when his nostrils were assailed
by the odor of the licensed nastiness
within, he snuffled the tainted air a
moment, dropped his tail in disgust
and was turning away, when police
man with brilliant star on his coat
and countenance glowing with beer
and sense of official duty, came up
and shot the prosecuted animal to
death. The jeering crowd that
watched his dying agonies was thrust
aside by the stalwart form of a mali
dressed like a frontiersman. "Who
killed my dog ?" he shouted in tones
Of thunder, as he glared upon the
crowd. "Show me the scoundrel
who shot my dog" he repeated. 81
did it," said the policeman, who stood
with the revolver in hand. "What
for enquired the angry man as he
stepped toward the officer, whose face
paled before the old man. "What
for" he repeated, and before the
policeman could answer, blow from
the gigantic fist of his interrogation
sent him into the gutter in almost as
lifeless a condition as the poor dog.
Other officers came up and the owner
of the dog was, with some difficulty,
arrested and taken before a Inagis-
trate, charged with assaulting an Off
Ger while discharging his duty. When
asked if he struck the officer he said,
81 don't know whether he's an officer
but l knocked the galute that killed
my dog. Of course / did. What
did he kill my dog for I want to
knowF" The magistrate informed
him that it was now 'dog-days,' and
that city ordinance authorized any
policeman to kill any dog found run
ming the streets without muzzle on.
"What for" again enquired the cul-
prit. "What do you want to muzzle
the dog for, I don't understand. l
wouldn't took hundred dollars for
Iige." He was told that people were
afraid of hydrophobia, and he was
fined ten dollars for the assault on
the officer. "Hy-dro.fo-ba" said the
old man in contemptuous tone as he
deposited ten dollar gold piece on
the desk of the magistrate. ely
dro-fo-ba. Well, Squire, I'll just tell
we what I think, l think this is right
peart town of your'n but its in cuss.
ed sight more danger from whisky,
fo-ba than hy-dro.fo-ba, and when
your so - keerful about the dogs,
why in hi don't you muzzle the
whisky? l seen twenty fellows up
where they shot Tige, that was bit
with whiskey durned sight worse
Ethan any dog could bite 'em, even il
The had the hy.dro-fo-ba, Good bye
\ Squire, don't hold no grudge agin
YOU, but d--n the foolishness Of q
town that'll muzzle the dogs in dog
days, and license whisky all the year
round. ! say there is dozen whisky
shops on this street, and / tell you
Squire they'll bite more men to death
| in a year with whisky fo-ba than all