A long time ago, in a North Brisbane largely forgotten, a local man lamented the loss of friendships and even a potential romance. What had caused his relationships to founder? Pet dogs.
He implored the Editor of the Moreton Bay Free Press to find him a solution. The Editor’s solution, one suspects, would have cost the gent in question not only a few friends, but possibly a large fine, or his liberty.
Here is his plaintive tale:
“Confound Those Dogs!”
(To the Editor of the Moreton Bay Free Press.)
Sir,
Permit me to complain of an existing annoyance which is (in my own particular case) becoming almost insupportable. I allude to what I emphatically call the Dog Nuisance.
When I use that expression, I do not altogether mean the trouble which horsemen and pedestrians daily experience from growling mastiffs and yelping curs in the public streets, but to the bother and vexation caused by the canine favourites of our acquaintances. Sir, I fortunately have few friends, but such as they are I am very anxious to retain their friendship, however as they most of them keep from two to six dogs, it is to me a puzzle how it is to be done.
My friend visits me; I receive him with open arms and offer him the gin and water and cigar of hospitality, when a dreadful yelping arises and upon investigation, the following state of affairs is elucidated.
One large dog rooting at my radish bed;
Item. One ditto scratching at my new armchair;
Item. One small ditto chasing my bantam fowls.
Now, Sir, I am fond of radishes, am desirous of keeping my armchair for use some day or other, and the bantams were given me by a very old and dear friend. What am I to do?
If I was to strike one of those abominable disturbers of my rest, I should make an enemy of that good companion who is calmly sipping his gin and water and thinking it very amusing. (I may add by way of parenthesis that the keepers of dogs never see any of their brutes do anything particularly amazing or disgusting, but they instantly exclaim “how funny!”)
I can’t thrash the animals, for it would give mortal offence to my friends. I’ve known many a quarrel to arise from striking one of these poor things. I remember a friendship of years being broken off through a mangy cur not worth the stone that ought to have drowned it, and a still more tender attachment brought to a disastrous conclusion owing to the ill temper of a dyspeptic lapdog.
I will put to you, Sir, a hypothetical case: –
A and B are sworn friends; they live together in peaceful happiness, smoke the pipe of peace and eat the mutton chop of bachelorhood in quiet contentment; when one day some Demon of Discord prompts A to buy a pup. From that day forward all peace is gone; floors are dirty, gloves are stolen, sofas are irretrievably ruined, until the catastrophe is attained by B‘s leg being bitten; – then farewell friendship, farewell happiness; A and B part; – both come to wretched ends; one takes to drinking in despair, and the other gets married.
No man can bear an affront to his dog. Do you think, Sir, if Lycidas had kicked Milton’s mastiff or young Hallam pinched the tail of Tennyson’s favourite spaniel, we should ever have had the “Lament” or “In Memoriam?” Not we! the men would have quarrelled and told lies of one another.
I pray your kind advice, Mr Editor, as to what is to be done in this dilemma. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
FRILL.
North Brisbane.
PS – Is there a tax on dogs? Is it enforced?
The reasonable solution offered by the Editor:
[If “Frill” has never tried flavoured meat, we recommend him to do so forthwith. It is an easy passport to the Paradise of Dogs for any “dyspeptic pup.” – ED.]
Perhaps Frill might have considered a reasonable conversation with his dog-loving friends, something along the lines of, “Thomas, could you please leave your dogs at home when you come to call?” “Amelia, my dear, perhaps a stroll in the garden? Alone?”
Moreton Bay Free Press (Brisbane, Qld.: 1852-1859), Wednesday 4 November 1857, page 2.
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