Our dog was a pest.

Oliver, Frank

Editor's Note: Frank Oliver founded the Edmonton Bulletin in 1880 and became one of that city's most prominent citizens. He was named to the North-West Council in 1885 and to the Legislative Assembly of the North-West Territories in 1888. He became a Member of Parliament in 1896 and served as federal Minister of the Interior from 1905 to 1911. The article which follows first appeared in the Calgary Herald on August 13, 1932, less than a year before Oliver died on March 31, 1933.

Dog stories are a rather prominent feature of the transient reading of the day. I very greatly enjoy these accounts of the loyalty, courage and self-sacrifice, as well as the displays of marvellous intelligence by the most faithful of all the animal friends of man. Comparing the characters respectively assigned to man and dogs in modern literature, if the old-fashioned virtues are to be the standard, the balance would seem to be altogether in favor of the dogs.

But as there are men and men so there are dogs and dogs. For my part I have never actually owned a dog -- and never intend to. This latter conclusion is the result of a set of experiences of many years ago that still stick in my memory. This story of a dog dates back to the days when the capital of Alberta, now a great trade and railroad centre and the home of 80,000 people, was a isolated outpost of civilization where in large measure primitive conditions still prevailed. As houses were comparatively far apart, even in town a watch dog was considered almost a necessary belonging of every household. But during those early days my wife and self were so intensively occupied in rearing a large family of small children on the limited and somewhat casual income accruing from a weekly newspaper published for the interest and information of a handful of pioneers whose economic conditions at that time was singularly unprosperous, that we never seemed to reach the point which would warrant adding a dog to the burden of upkeep. The fact that my wife did not like dogs anyway may have had a bearing on the case.

And then one fine spring day a dog of reasonably good appearance and apparently good behavior came through our gate and without ceremony or introduction attached himself to the establishment. Of course all who know dogs know that a straying dog is no good. That's why he is a stray. But for some time we could not know for certain that he really was a stray. From day to day we expected his owner to appear and claim him. In the meantime he was treated with a fair measure of hospitality. The boys welcomed him with enthusiasm. The girls were sympathetic rather than enthusiastic. In view of his activities as watch dog -- which duties he assumed forthwith -- my wife's attitude was that of cautious neutrality, plus of course fair consideration at meal times.

Standards of dog beauty differ so widely that I hesitate to make claims for his good looks. He was of medium height with a short straight hair, black body and tail, a wide collar of white and white nose and feet. He was of alert expression, showed no marks of illtreatment, and evidently had been well fed. He was probably between two and three years old. Although there seemed to be a prospect in the earlier part of his sojourn with us that -- barring the appearance of an owner -- he would settle into a groove as a part of our establishment we never took that for granted, and never gave him a name; but we went so far as to speak of him amongst members of the family as "Our Dog."

As weeks went by and he became more and more assured in his position his attitude changed from that of humble dependent to dominant partner. He began to look upon the establishment as his rather than ours. This first became manifest in his decision to extend his activities as watch dog from the prevention of improper or doubtful intrusion on our actual premises to the street or road as it then was that passed alongside, not in front of, the property, on which there was considerable traffic.

He took upon himself to challenge the passage of all horse-drawn vehicles, especially those travelling at speed. He would rush out with every appearance of ferocity, barking vociferously and frightening the horses by jumping at their heads. Whether the apparent attempt to stop teams was a matter of principle as connected with his protective duties or merely a form of amusement I do not know. From time to time we had a series of intensive arguments on the subject. On my part I may say that my views were reinforced by a handy and efficient rawhide or short whip. His protests could be heard across the river valley. Had there been a blue cross association in Edmonton at that time I would probably have had to face a charge of cruelty to animals. But the corrections although emphatic enough made no difference. The next horse or team that passed received the same attention as those that had passed before. Notwithstanding the whippings, he showed no inclination of transferring his now undesired presence and services to some other household or locality.

The difficulties of the situation were accentuated by the fact that as newspaper editor I was exposed to the material as well as verbal resentment of indignant subscribers who objected to their horses being attacked on the public street by a dog that whoever was his owner obviously used my premises as his base of operations. I was also a member of the North-West legislature for the Edmonton district, so that I was doubly vulnerable to adverse individual opinions based on his misconduct. And yet I was helpless. I could not send him home, for I did not know who his owner was. I could not give him away, for no one would take him. I did not dare to kill him, for he was not mine. I was tied up in a hard knot and no remedy in sight.

In those days a few dozen houses were spread over the same area of both sides of the river. Practically every house had a dog. Although houses were frequently far apart the barking of a dog could easily be heard from one to another. Our Dog had some special quality of voice or intonation, provocative, challenging, insulting or merely argumentative. It could not have been solely conversational. When about midnight on clear, calm nights he began to bark; within fifteen minutes it seemed that all the dogs in Edmonton and on both sides of the valley would be trying to bark their "heads off." To start the concert seemed quite easy. To stop it was entirely another matter. After a time it would die down a little, but some of the many dogs, having been thoroughly aroused, would keep their respective owners awake until daylight. While I had no doubt as to the responsibility of Our Dog for these sleep-killing concerts it was not a matter easy of proof. At any rate so far as that form of diversion was concerned he got clear away with it.

Included in our establishment of those days was a horse and buckboard. This means of transport enabled the family -- in sections -- from time to time to view the beauties of the countryside. At that time cultivation was limited and only the cultivated fields were fenced. This left the greater part of the land open to public pasturage and cattle grazed freely near the public roads or trails. It was the pleasure of Our Dog to accompany us on these drives, with the objective, as it developed, if there were cattle grazing within a moderate distance of the trail, that he would chase them as fast and far as he saw fit -- of course as greatly to their detriment as to his pleasure.

As the only means of preventing these pernicious practices we tied him up before starting out on our drive. That was all right for once, although his howls of protest continued at least as long as we were within hearing. On the occasion of our next drive he disappeared as soon as preparations for hitching the horse began. Of course he joined us when we were well on our way with results to grazing cattle as usual. The situation had become impossible, with no solution in sight. But acute evils sometimes bring their own remedy. That was the case in this instance.

On the occasion of the last drive in which he had part we had taken the precaution of tying him up, as we thought securely, before he had notice of our intention to go driving. When the process of hitching the horse began he protested with all the vehemence that a voice equipment always in excellent repair rendered possible. We rather felt as we drove off that at last we had bested him. Whether his persistent howling distracted the neighbors so that rather than listen longer they had turned him loose or whether he managed to break away by his own efforts we never knew. At any rate as we were calmly driving along the Fort Saskatchewan trail near the Belmont schoolhouse -- just beyond the present limits of the city -- Our Dog hove in sight and soon caught up to us, with every evidence of being highly pleased with himself and his achievement. I need scarcely say that our frame of mind was the direct opposite. Beyond the school the trail passed through the homestead of Mr. James Price, whose herd of milking cows were grazing on his land and near the trail.

This was too good a chance for Our Dog to miss. Orders and threats to the contrary notwithstanding he gave his usual attention to the cows and beyond a doubt had a most enjoyable time. But it was very bad for the cows. Mr. Price was an Englishman and therefore had a very full appreciation of the rights of property both as to livestock and real estate. His profession or calling in the Old Country had been that of brickmaker. Those who have been privileged to have contacts with gentlemen of that calling on their native heath will have a faint appreciation of the late Mr. Price's verbal approach to the subject of responsibility of owners of vicious dogs which without cause or provocation attacked the cattle and especially milking cows of the owner of the land on which they grazed. He had a complete case.

The law and the facts were both on his side. He also carried a very efficient looking double-barrelled shotgun. Of necessity the argument was quite onesided. I am under the impression that this was not the first time that Our Dog had been having fun with Mr. Price's cows. He (Price) was mad clear through and was obviously prepared for all contingencies.

It may strike the reader that as I had permitted Our Dog to make his home with us it was up to me to protect him from the wrath of Mr. Price. I did not see it in that way. He had abused our hospitality and had proven absolutely incorrigible in his many indiscretions whether playful or vicious. Countering Mr. Price's attack I specifically denied ownership and repudiated responsibility, leaving his fate absolutely at the discretion of Mr. Price. It was an outstanding instance of honesty being the best -- or indeed the only -- policy.

When the forward movement of the buckboard was checked for the discussion with Mr. Price, Our Dog ceased his chase of the cattle and came back to the vicinity of the buckboard, evidently fearing that if he got too far away he might miss something. He was right. This was Mr. Price's opportunity and the career of Our Dog closed then and there with a bang -- or more properly with two bangs, for in his then frame of mind Mr. Price did not propose to take any chances on our playful but indiscreet and headstrong companion staging a come-back.

I am unable to say what Mr. Price's estimate may have been on myself as one who would neither protect nor be responsible for his own dog -- no doubt he thought the dog was really mine -- but he may have charitably concluded that no better could be expected from a man in politics, as I then was to a very limited degree. Whatever Mr. Price thought of me I shall always recall him, if not in the guise of a protecting and avenging angel, at least as one who cleared up for me an otherwise impossible situation. I have therefore always held his memory in high regard.