As soon as the door of the caretaker's lodge opened he would have to
creep under the fallen slab again. To lie in such a cramped position,
hour after hour, day after day, was enough to break the spirit of any
warm blooded creature that lives. It was an exquisite form of torture
not long to be endured. And to get his single meal a day at Mr. Traill's
place Bobby had to watch for the chance opening of the wicket to slip in
and out like a thief. The furtive life is not only perilous, it outrages
every feeling of an honest dog. It is hard for him to live at all
without the approval and the cordial consent of men. The human order
hostile, he quickly loses his self-respect and drops to the pariah
class. Already wee Bobby had the look of the neglected. His pretty coat
was dirty and unkempt. In his run across country, leaves, twigs and
burrs had become entangled in his long hair, and his legs and underparts
were caked with mire.
Instinctively any dog struggles to escape the fate of the outcast. By
every art he possesses he ingratiates himself with men. One that has his
usefulness in the human scheme of things often is able to make his own
terms with life, to win the niche of his choice. Bobby's one talent that
was of practical value to society was his hunting instinct for every
small animal that burrows and prowls and takes toll of men's labor.
In Greyfriars kirkyard was work to be done that he could do. For quite
three centuries rats and mice had multiplied in this old sanctuary
garden from which cats were chased and dogs excluded. Every breeze that
blew carried challenges to Bobby's offended nose. Now, in the crisp gray
dawn, a big rat came out into the open and darted here and there over
the powdering of dry snow that frosted the kirkyard.
A leap, as if released from a spring, and Bobby captured it. A snap of
his long muzzle, a jerk of his stoutly set head, and the victim hung
limp from his grip. And he followed another deeply seated instinct when
he carried the slain to Auld Jock's grave. Trophies of the chase were
always to be laid at the feet of the master.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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