The Barking Dog

Southland Times, Issue 21732, 18 June 1932, Page 18

The Barking Dog

—First Prize. — ’Twas six a.m.l That hour when we lie snugly in the best place! That hour when, if the dastardly clock presumes to strike too loudly, if the impudent blind makes up his mind to go up top, if any presumptuous annoying noise decides to dwell in our ears, we are not, to say it quite mildly, exactly in an amiable frame of mind. So—-,“Bow-wow-wow! ' Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow. Bow-wow-wow.” “Shirrup—sto’ mak’ noise!” Mr Shellywick grunted, turned over and began to snore quite peaceably again. “S’no’ me!” yawned Tpiwinkle, “blink-n’ idiot!” “Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow! Bow-wow-wow!” “S’ blinkin’ dog!” grumbled Shellywick, turning over again, “blinkin’ dog! Barks an’ barks an’ barks. S‘ awful noise! Goo-night.” “Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow.” “S’ awful noise.” agreed Mr Tipwinkle, his mouth opening slowly into a black, yawning cavity which entirely fascinated an inquisitive thistledown which floated in at once. How were they to know that Barker, the dog, was reciting? How were they to know that Barker had a glorious voice, that Barker thought his voice was just right? How was Barker to know that he had cruelly broken into their dream castles like a burglar? How was Barker to know that he was not on the best of terms with his masters at present? So—- “ Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow-wow-wow!” “Oh, I am a grand reciter,” thinks Barker. “S’ awful noise!” said Mr Tipwinkle sleepily, again and again and again, and yet again. “Can’t go to sleep—too much noise—ah-00-o,” and again his mouth opened slowly and mysteriously into a deep dark cavity, swallowed many of the animalcular dwellers of the air, and shut again. So out of bed tumbled Shellywick, and the sheets, and the blankets, and the eiderdown, and the pillows, and also Mr Tipwinkle. Tipwinkle threw his clothes on himself, and a boot at the dog (not his own, but the good Shelly wick’s).

“Bow-wow-wow. Bow-wow-wow-wow-o-o-o-o-ow.” The boot had apparently made itself acquainted with Barker, and Barker (to get his own back) quickly acquainted his teeth with the boot in a fashion which entirely dismayed Shellywick, but quite satisfied Barker, who began his recitation again.

“Bow-wow-wow-wow. Bow-wow-wow!”

Now, this barking was too much for a self-respecting, high born, honourable, gentle spoken, good-natured gentleman like himself to stand, thought Mr Shellywick. To be awaked up at this unearthly hour of the morn by a blinkin’ idot of a dog! To be forced out of a comfortable bed all because of a dog! To lose one’s boots, or one of one’s boots all because of a blinking idot of a dog! And all because the dog thought it was such a fine elocutionist! Oh, yes! Barker’s effective oral delivery was sweet to his own perky ears!

“I’ll stop that dog barking if—if—if I have to stand on my head,” said Mr Shellywick grandiloquently, puffing out his chest, puffing it out and out and more out, as he made this great self-sacrificial statement—though the grand effect was rather spoiled by two coat buttons breaking away joyously from their prison on his waistcoat, and hiding themselves beneath the duchess. “Bow-wow-wow! Bow-wow-wow-wow.” This was too much! 1 “What shall we do?” Tipwinkle said sadly—then his face brightened. He was inspired. “Why, Mr Shellywick, stand on your head. Oh, Mr Shellywick, just the thing, stand on your head. Dog shall be so surprised, he’ll stop barking. So he will stop barking. Why, he’ll stop barking and we shall be in peace. We can go back to bed—he’ll be so surprised—why, Mr Shellywick-” “Really —” began Mr Shellywick. Who could expect a self-respecting gentleman, a popular citizen, a member of the county council to do such a base, vulgar, uncivilized action! Really! “You said you would! Bai jove, Shellywick, such a brainwave—sleep in peace—bai-jove, dog’ll be so surprised.” Mr Tipwinkle beamed and smiled, twinkled and beamed, smiled and twinkled. Bai-jove, what fun this would be! Now, what could a self-respecting, honourable gentleman do but keep his word? So Mr Shellywick slowly picked up himself and a cushion from a.chair, stepped gingerly out to Barker, one boot on and one boot off, lay down the cushion and proceeded to do the dreadful deed. His head went down on the cushion, but, sad to relate, his legs wouldn’t go up. They wouldn’t go up! No, they wouldn’t go up! Barker gazed and barked, barked and gazed. Surely his elocution must be wonderful if it had induced these staid and usually unappreciative gentlemen to show their pleasure in such an entertaining way. He must recite more for them. “Bow-wow-wow. Wow-wow-wow.” And then, it happened! Mr Shellywick’s disobedient legs flew up in the air! Good legs! But oh! they went down the opposite side. Yes, they flew from the perpendicular to the horizontal much, much more quickly than they had risen—so the worthy Shellywick, that self-respecting, dignified honourable gentleman lay and gave vent to his dismay in this dignified manner—- “ Wow-ow! hurt, wow—o-o-o-o —wow. Sore! Wow-wow-oo!” Barker’s perky ears popped up, and his eyes out. Surely he did not sound like that! Did he? He began to recite. Yes, it did sound like that! He tried again! Yes, it just sounded like that! He wouldn’t do it again—oh, no! He hadn’t known it sounded like that. He slunk into his cage, his tail between his legs. Oh, no! He wouldn’t do it again! So Barker lost all his love for his wonderful power of oratory, and so Mr Tipwinkle and the dignified Mr Shellywick sleep in peace. —Cousin Dorothy Edwards (14), Barrow street, Bluff. —Second Prize.— A long weary stretch of grey, wet road, stretching uphill till it met the low line of ragged clouds. Lined on either side with tall sombre looking houses, it seemed the dreariest street that ever weary, dreary drab-looking people trudged wearily up and down all day long. Just now it was deserted, and the only sound to be heard was the alternate barking and mournful howling of a dog. Suddenly a burst of sunshine from behind the clouds, poured a flood of molten gold down the hill,

making it a golden road. The dog at the | top stood motionless with its nose to the sky: at this same time for the last week, it had stood thus, waiting for the master who never came. For a week the dog had barked and listened for the once familiar step, for its faithful heart told it that someday they should meet again. “Drat that dog!” said a voice and an old shoe came hurtling out of a window, narrowly missing the offender in question. More boots and brushes came raining dovzn, and the poor dumb brute' had to retreat from its lonely vigil. For another week this went on, and the poor animal would probably have starved to death, had it not been taken to a yard full of barking, snarling dogs, who struggled to get at him through the bars of their cages, as he was dragged past. Then began a life of misery; every day he was beaten, until his. poor starved body bled. There was little to eat, and what there was did not do much to appease the savage hunger which he felt. Then came a morning when the sun managed to wander into the dirty, noisy yard. But he did not see, he did not care, for he lay very still in his cage. Once more he was on top of a hill. A golden road stretched before his feet, leading to Heaven. He did not see a man come, shake his head at him and produce a revolver, which he proceeded to level, for he thought he could detect a familiar step: he was sure: he whimpered eagerly. At last! there was the dear figure he knew so well standing on the Golden Road and waiting for him. There was the sound of a shot The dog was freefree to join his master—free to travel once more, as of old, the Golden Road with him. The dog who barked for his master, did not bark in vain. —Cousin Margaret Jaquiery (14), 21 George street, North Invercargill. —Very Highly Commended.— “Down in Little Pembly, in the Market Square, Ma, there was something great! All the dogs for miles around had congregated there—Flip and Floss, and that dog—what’s-its-name —and Spot, Rover, Tip, Spot, Jock, Peter and even Mr Doedoo’s Dot, and thousands more that I don’t know. I came slowly round the corner, Ma, having just finished that spit-fire of a cat—Tim—well I had just eaten his dinner, and was wondering what the row was about, when I saw all that mass of dogs. I ran as fast as I could to see what it was, but at first I didn’t dare to go too close, for they were big dogs, Ma. After a while I went right up, and then more dogs closed in behind me, so, seeing I couldn’t get out, I though I might as well get right into the heart of things. Therefore, I started snapping at their heels, like you did at that beggar-man, Ma, and when I did that, they turned round and snarled; but I just looked innocent like you do Ma, when you’ve been burying a bone in the garden—wow! whacha slap me for—well anyhow I just looked good like—and quickly moved in front of them, while they were arguing, and in such a way, Ma, I worked right into the centre. There I saw—(deep breath) the dog that can’t ston barking! Now!”

“Well, what then?” “What then? I saw the dog—THE dog—that won’t stop barking. He just barked, an’ barked, an’ barked, an’ barked until I thought he would choke. Seems like he travels all over the world, and if he lets you look down his throat where all the noise comes from, you have to give him some of your tea, and your bed for the night.” “Yes, but what has made you arrive home so late? It’s nearly to-morrow!” “Well, Ma, I haven’t finished yet. Well anyway, a tiny little dog, Fido, I heard him called, came to have his look, and just as he was looking, all the men came along, and chased us away. Of course, I went round to Fido’s where the dog-that-wouldn’t stop-barking had gone for tea. But Fido’s mistress didn’t give him any tea, for being out of the gate, so the other dog was awfully hungry. Poor Fido was turned outside, and when he went to his kennel, there was the dog-that-wouldn’t-stop-barking, barking his loudest because he was hungry, and when he saw poor Fido, he snarled. He bounded up to Fido, and so great was Iris anger that he ate the wee dog up—or tried to, because Fido stuck in his throat. He coughed and choked, because the barks couldn’t come out, he sneezed and jumped, and suddenly the barks began coming out of his ears! Seeing this, of rather hearing, I ran to the rescue, Ma! I pulled and shoved at Fido—gripping him by the tail—l tugged hard until I pulled Fido out, and then the dog-that-wouldn’t-stop-barking, stopped barking, so we ran away. Mv word he was wild, Ma! It seems we had spoiled all his voice, and now he could stop barking, but he wouldn’t get so many free dinners. He wasn’t a bit grateful, judging from the way he bellowed and roared.. We kept running, and a after a while I felt something cold on me—” “And you awakened to find some urchin throwing water over you for sleeping so long in the sun. Come here you young rascal—l’ll give it to you!” “No Ma! It’s not fair. Give it to the do-that-wouldn’t-stop-barking — not me! Wow!” —Cousin Constance Fox (15), 94 Earn street, Invercargill —Highly Commended.— Bow-wow-wow-wow. Bow-wow-w! “Whatever’s the matter with that dog?” cried Mr Newton, dropping his newspaper as a long-drawn-out howl broke the quiet. Mrs Newton looked up. “Yes, I don’t know what’s the matter ■with him. He started barking just before you came in at tea-time. Bob went out and quietened him, didn’t you?” she said .turning to her son, who was doing his home-work. “Yes, he seemed to quieten down when I went out, but he was very restless. I couldn’t see anything about though,” said Bobby. “Well,” said Mr Newton, “You’d better go and have a look now. Get a torch and I’ll come too.” Bobby ran and looked for his torch, and then he and his father went out to the kennel. Ruffles, Bobby’s dog, was standing outside, straining at his chain, and barking loudly. “Ruffles,” called Bobby. “Lie down, boy,” but the dog kept straining into the darkness. “Shine the torch over," said Mr Newton. Bobby did so. “ T can’t see anything.” Ruffles kept on barking. “Let him go, and see what he does,” said Mr Newton, when they had looked all round the yard. They could not see anything that could excite the dog. Bobbie went up to Ruffles and unfastened his chain, with some difficulty, as Ruffles would not keep still, and kept on barking. As soon as he was released the little dog was off like a shot, down the path and through a gap in the hedge beside the "ate. “I wonder where he’s off to,” said Mr Newton. “I hope he comes back all right,” said Bobby anxiously, as the little dog disappeared. “I expect he’ll be all right,” said Mr Newton, reassuringly- “Probably he heard another dog, or something.” He tr .ned towards the house. “I thought it might have been a burglar or someone stealing the hens,” laughingly. Bobby and his father gave a last glance round, and went inside. “Well,” asked Mrs Newton, when they came in, “Did you find out what was the matter with Ruffles?”

“No, we didn’t,” said Mr Newton, “We let him off his chain. He seemed more excited than he usually is when he hears a dog or something.” Bobby settled down to his homework again, Mrs Newton picked up her knit-

ttng, and Mr Newton resumed his reading. About half-an-hour afterwards, all was quiet when -uddenly a sharp, staccato bark came from the back of the house, and little whine. “It’s Ruffles,” cried Bobby, jumping up. “He didn’t stay away for long," said Mr Newton. “Run to the door and see," said Mrs Newton. “You’ll have to chain him up again.” Bobbie ran and onened the back door. An excited ittle form hurled himself at Bobby, and then darted down the path again. “Hi! Ruffles, come back. Here boy!” called Bobby. Ruffles ran back, licked Bobby’s h?.nd, and ran back again. “What’s the matter, old chap? Ruffles came back, and caught hold of Bobby’s shoe-lace, which was hanging down, and darted off again. “Dad,” called Bobby. “I think Ruffles wants me to follow him. Come with me, will you.” Mr Newton and Bobby went ff after the little dog, as it darted off, looking

back every now and then, and barking excitedly. “Where the dickens is he going, l * said Mr Newton as Ruffles scrambled through the hedge. Down the lane they went, until they came to a little cottage. “Why this is where old Sammy lives,” cried Mr Newton as Ruffles whined at the gate. Sammy was an old man who was very fond of Ruffles. They went in, and knocked at the door, but received no answer. They tried the door, and it opened, so they went in, and down the little passage to the kitchen. There, lying with his leg doubled under him was the old man. Bobby and his father helped him uo and bandaged it, for it was not broken. “I slipped,” said the old man, “but how did you know?" “Ruffles was barking all night, so we let him off, and half an hour later he brought us here.” “He’s a wonderful little fellow,” said Sammy. —Cousin Dorothy M. Fox (16), 94 Earn Street, Invercargill.