Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Garden

"But the curious thing about this incident was that the shepherd, by no means an educated person, never tried to take advantage of me, restrict my liberty or capture me as his property. I suppose, being a sheep–herder himself, he recognized in me an expert in his own trade who was entitled to respect. In other words, I had, for perhaps the first time in Dog History, hired myself out as an independent specialist and could leave or stay with the job as I pleased.

"Poor though he was, the man gave me splendid meals, in every way as good as his own. I took his dog in hand—he was a collie, a decent fellow even if he was a bit stupid—and taught him over several weeks how sheep–herding should be done under varying conditions of weather.

"You know, that game is not quite as easy as it looks to the man who passes by. Sheep are a herd animal—very much a herd animal. If the weather is fine they behave one way; if it is rough they behave another; if it is hot they do this; if it rains they do that and so forth. Now if you're a sheep dog—a good sheep dog—you've got to know these things and act accordingly.

"Well anyway, I put the shepherd's dog through a regular course. I enjoyed it myself—as one always does when teaching the other fellow. By the end of a fortnight poor Raggles, as he was called, was a really good sheep dog and could be trusted to take care of a flock even if a blizzard sprang up at twilight, which is perhaps the hardest thing that a sheep dog is ever called upon to do."

"But my yearning to see the world led me to drop that too, just as it had the peace of the monastic life. And the day came when I said good–bye to the shepherd and his dog and set out once more. It had been kind of lonely on the sheep farm and I thought I would like to try city life for a while. I journeyed on till I came to a big town. You see, being still pretty inexperienced, I thought it would be quite a simple matter for a dog to go to a city and take up his residence there like a person. But I discovered it wasn't.

"Firstly, finding a place to live was hard. I solved that problem eventually by taking up my quarters in an old packing–case which I found in an empty lot. It was one of those places where people dump rubbish. The packing–case, as a kennel, left a good deal to be desired, but it might have been worse. The wind and the rain blew in through the holes of it. But it was much better after I had stuffed it and lined it with some straw and rags which I found near by among the rubbish.

"The packing–case as a kennel left a good deal to be desired"

"Another problem was the food. This was always sort of hard. But I had supposed it would be easier in a city where so many had to be fed and such a lot of food was on sale. But, on the contrary, I never met with such extraordinary difficulty in getting enough to eat.

"However the worst thing of all was the dog–catchers. In cities, I discovered, homeless dogs are not allowed. By homeless they mean ownerless. An office called The Department of Public Health is responsible for this. It is not supposed to be healthy for a town to have ownerless dogs knocking around its streets.

"Of all the inhospitable unfriendly institutions that of Town Dog–catchers is I think the worst. The idea is this: a man with a wagon goes round the streets. And any dogs he finds who haven't collars on, or who appear to be without masters, or lost, get grabbed by the dog–catcher and put into his wagon. Then they are taken to a place and kept there to see if anyone wishes to claim them or adopt them. After a certain number of days, if no one has come forward to give them a home, they are destroyed.

"Dear me, what a time I had keeping out of the clutches of those dog–catchers! I seemed to be always getting chased. Life just wasn't worth living. Although I managed to get away I finally decided that a town was no place for me and that I didn't care for city life at all.

"And then just as I was preparing to leave one evening I did get caught. Goodness, how scared I was! As the wretched old wagon rumbled along over the cobbled streets I cowered inside, thinking that the end of my career had surely come. At the home or whatever it was called where we were taken, we were treated quite kindly, as a matter of fact—fed well and given decent beds. Well, there I waited in the greatest anxiety wondering whether I was going to get adopted or not.

"On the third day, which I believe was the last day of grace allowed, an old lady called at the home. It seemed it was a habit of hers, calling to see if she could rescue any stray dogs from destruction. Her keen old eyes picked me out right away.

"An old lady called"

"'Oh,' said she, 'he looks a nice dog, that Aberdeen over there. I think I can find a home for him.'

"Then she asked the man in charge to keep me till the next day, when she hoped to be able to bring some one along who would adopt me.

"This she did. He was a funny sort of man, harmless enough. He took me away with a piece of string tied around my neck. And I assure you I was glad enough to go with him.

"After I got to his home I decided that he wasn't very anxious to have me, really, after all. I felt that most likely he had only taken me to oblige the old lady. He was one of those fussy bachelors, worse than any old maid—had to have everything in his house in apple–pie order and nearly had a fit if I got on to the chairs or left hairs on the hearth–rug.

"After staying with him a week I made up my mind that he would probably be greatly relieved if I ran away and freed him of my company. Which I did, choosing the night–time for my departure so that I could get out of the town without running into those wretched dog–catchers again."

"This time I determined to remove myself from the haunts of Man completely and entirely. I must confess I felt considerably disappointed in Humankind—disappointed and a good deal annoyed. It seemed to me that Man took far more than his share of the good things of this world and that he bossed the rest of creation much more than he had any business to. So I was now going to live independently of him. I think part of the idea was proving to myself, as well as to Mankind, that a dog could be really self–supporting.

"To find a piece of country that was wild enough for my purpose was not easy. I made inquiries of dogs whom I met along the roads. They told me of certain big forests and heaths where they reckoned that a dog could live, hidden away in peace, if he wanted to. These districts were all quite a distance off. I chose one that sounded the best and started out to get there.

"It took me three days of steady travel. On the way the countryside grew less and less peopled; and when at last I came to the part I was making for it certainly was lonesome and desolate enough for anything. Some of it was mountainous. For the rest, wide expanses of forest and brambly rolling heath sheltered only the timid native creatures of the wild. One couldn't find a better place for a dog to lead a hermit's life.

"I began by making a thorough exploration of the whole section till I knew every dell and thicket in it. Then I found a fine old hollow tree, like a bear's den, which made the snuggest home you ever saw. No winds or storms could reach me there, and it was as dry as any house or kennel. It was situated in one of the remotest and thickest parts of the forest where no stray traveller would be likely to find me—even supposing that any stray travellers ever passed that way. Quite near there was a splendid little mountain brook where I could always get a drink. Rabbits seemed plentiful, partridges and woodcock too; and there were a few squirrels and small game. Even in the winter season the woods were full of wonderful smells and looked very attractive.