The Republican journal., 1912-08-01
The True Story of Bobby's
Death.
"a lie that is all lie,
May be met and fought with outright;
But lie that is half truth,
Tc hordor n, q fkor fo Grhtv

Is a harder matter to fight"
These lines have been repeatedly brought to
mind during the past two weeks, when driving
through the country to enjoy the beauty of
the "byways and hedges" and to benefit by
the peacefulness and restfulness of nature,
have been continually met with the tragic
story of Bobby's death as presented to the
public in out of town papers by our enterpris-
ing reporters. l like enterprise. l like and
admire Belfast's reporters Having for years
been intimately associated in business way
with the world'in which these reporters "live,
move, and have their being have enjoyed
much as good sport enjoys horse race,
the rivalry which has existed between them.
In "Dilly's" day, all the other reporters were
easily distanced. "Dilly," when he wanted a
story, simply went to the door, cast his eye up
and down Main street, turned around and
gave to airy nothings a local habtation and g
name" The story he wrote was always an
interesting story, and in the main a true one
But all reporters are not "Dillys," any more
than all "Dilys" are reporters. When "Dilly'
laid aside his pen, there was little upheaval,
the race was on. Many time in the years
since then some wonderful flight of fancy, in
geniously wedged in among few dry facts
and sent flying around this terrestrial globe in
Bangor Boston, Lewiston and Augusta papers,
has made me feel like clappng my hands.
swinging my hat and shouting "Hooray."
For instance, when the ice in my beloved
Passages awaukeag river-most beautiful.
serene and peaceabe of harmless little rivers
was made to rear up on its hind legs and peer
into the chamber windows of house on the
river banks. and show its teeth and threaten to
take the crouching, shuddering inmates, house
and all, away on its back, and they were finally
rescued in boats from these same chamber
windows. Oh, that story was great! All the
greater because the people in that house slept
sereney through the whole of it.
Occasionally these flights of fact and fancy
have come little nearer than the Passagassa-
waukeag; but still, enjoying the race, l have
made no outcry. Before these brilliant re-
porters, with their nimble wits and nimble
pencils, on4 is, in a way, helpless. If you
have ever tried to eat picnic dinner in pine
grove on June day you know what l mean.
But in this matter of Bobby's death something
rises within me that is not quite righteous
Indignation" not qui te "unholy wrath" and
not quite "sorrowful anger but which might
be mixture of all three seasoned with little
old fashioned red pepper Out of this mixture
of feelings l present to the public the true
story of Bobby's death.
Like all living creatures Bobby tal few
good qualities; buta often happens, the struc-
ture of his reputation was built upon his many
faults; and the climax of Bobby's badness"
came when in the early summer he was caught
killing sheep-then, indeed, the last rag of
Bobby's respectability fell away. We tied
him up and gave promise to the sheep owners
that he should never again nave his liberty.
l have been asked "If l had Bobby hitched
to the automobile when he strangled." l have
been stopped on the road and asked chow and
when l strangled my dog" "how far l dragged
my dog" "If missed my dog etc. l have
been stared at, condoled with and glared at by
comparative strangers, as the woman who
"strangled her dog and at the bottom of all
Sometimes I almost believe that in a sudden
frenzy seized and strangled that ninety
pound dog, and then dragged his body through
the streets. Such is the strength of public
opinion, and the power of the press" But
the facts more prosaic, although the touch
of tragedy remains. Bobby's life must, after
his wicked deed have been always life of
confinement, since no muzzle was strong
enough to hold him. At home he was securely
tied, and on the road, when taken for exercise,
he was tied to the axle. 1t was regullr
"dogs life,' but we saw no other way.
Having been ordered by my physician to
stay out of doors this summer and rest, and
taking kindly to the prescription, started one
morning with my family for a day in the
woods. AS usual Bobby trotted happily along
behind the wagon. The day turned hot, then
hotter, then hottest. We drove colt, seldom
starting her out of a walk After driving
about three miles, we stopped beside brook
for an hour or more. Horse and dog went into
the water for splash and plunge, then we
harnessed and walked the colt three miles
farther, to another brook, where we spent the
afternoon in the woods. Bobby was comfort
able, and as happy as any dog could be that
was tied to tree when he might be hunting
squirrels, rabbits and sheep.
When we started for home the heat was
terrific. We drove carefully and slowly, but
Bobby painted distressingly. as a dog will on
such day. We passed the R. F. D. man as he
stopped at box; we quickened our pace lit
tie to get on ahead of him; the heat. that little
squirt of speed and the dust from it, proved too
much for poor Bobby. AS we looked around
at him he lost his footing and fell exhausted.
He was not dragged" and in my opinion he
was not 'strangled." He was simply over
come by the heat and died from it, as did sew.
eral dogs that same day. We brought
water and tried hard to save him. We were
sad, we were solemn, we were sorrowful, for
with all his faults we loved him STILL" But
realizing that the accident, sad as it was, very
probably saved Bobby from an ignominious
death as a sheep-killer, we were soon recon-
ciled. Wishing to keep the matter quiet until
we had filled his place, since we felt that Bob
by had been protection, we did not unneces-
sarily spread the news of his loss; and so it
was with amazement that far and near II saw
it in the paper and read the story of how,
upon reaching home presumably from my of.
fee where l have not been working since