GYP, THE GARBAGE MAN’S DOG
Gyp, the garbage man’s dog, was next. He was somewhat sullen, having seen life on its seamy side, and he was as full of experiences as an egg is of meat.
As has been previously related, he disliked all phases of the law, and wasn’t enjoying this court scene very much. However, a few more experiences would make little difference in his checkered life.
When he gave his name and address, he was asked if he had ever been in court before, to which he made the humiliating reply that he had, though he was not to blame for it. As Judges in general do not care to listen to excuses about the past, there was no chance for an explanation. Because this was not his first offense, and because he came from the lower ranks of life, although he had good blood; for he was a shepherd dog, and shepherd dogs are related to the great collie family, aristocrats in dogdom. But poor Gyp, being seen daily under the garbage wagon, was looked upon as a suspicious character.
Now Gyp was not deserving of this opinion from any one. He was as honest and faithful as any of them. More temptation had been thrown in his way, and he had been able to withstand it better than some weaker ones. He would not lie, would not steal nor cheat. But he would fight. And it was due to this failing that he had a story to tell. We will leave it to you, dear reader, to decide if he was not justified at least in this one case.
Gyp said he hoped that all dogs were now taking this course in “higher standards of living.” If they did, there might be no further occasion for his having to use his implements of warfare. Nevertheless, he would keep his teeth in good condition, and his claws well whetted. In fact, he thought preparedness was the best policy for all dogs. They need not actually fight, but just threaten to scrap if other dogs disregarded their rights.
His story was a thrilling one about mistaken identity, and the innocent having to suffer for the sins of others. His master was his idol. For him, Gyp would die if necessary. Neither he nor his master had always been just what they were now, for both had seen better times.
One dark night a crime was committed. Gyp’s master, though not guilty, was caught in the meshes of the police dragnet instead of the real culprit, and he was taken to jail to await trial for the crime some one else had committed.
When he failed to return in the morning, Gyp started out to find him. Taking up the trail, he found it led to the jail. Of course he was not allowed in the building, but he hung around, leaving only at night and when he was hungry. At night he had to return home to keep watch over the little boy and his mother. It was his job to take care of them, now that his master was gone.
Gyp had a double responsibility. The wife and little boy must be protected, and he must be on hand at the jail should a need come for him there. With all of this worry, he was growing very thin. Also he did not have enough to eat, for not many luxuries in the way of meat were brought into the little home now, and he was too busy just watching, to hunt for stray bones and things like that.
At last the day of the trial came, and his master was taken from the jail across the courtyard to the room where the hearing was to be held. That was Gyp’s opportunity. Following the crowd into the court room, he slipped in before any one knew he was there. Waiting his chance, he edged his way to where his master was and lay down at his feet. He was hoping he would be allowed to stay right through to the end; but he was disappointed, for hardly had he settled himself when some one took hold of his collar and roughly dragged him out, giving him a kick. Just who was the dumb brute in this case? That was the last he saw of his beloved master for some time. Do you wonder Gyp did not like courts and trials?
He returned home, for now he must devote his whole time to the family. The little boy must be protected when he went to the corner grocery. Gyp would not permit another dog to come near the child. It was at this time that the dog’s fighting blood rose. He would go ahead of the boy when he was crossing the street, and the kindly traffic officer, being their friend, would hold back the crowd until they were over.
One day, after having piloted his little charge safely home, Gyp took a walk down the street past some fine houses where a small dog was lying on a nice lawn. He saw a big hound dog come from another direction and go up to the small dog, sniffing and mumbling a war-growl. Gyp stopped to see what would happen. Presently something that gave offense to the small dog passed between the two, and he set his teeth in the left hind leg of the big dog. Then the trouble started. Seeing the small dog was getting the worst of it, Gyp entered the fray, letting the little fellow out of it, and he and the hound rolled over and over on those fine flower beds.
The ladies who lived in the house were screaming over the phone to police headquarters. But in their nervousness they succeeded only in making the chief believe some one was being killed. At once that official dispatched the police wagon. It came, bringing along with the police a newspaper reporter who wanted to get first news for his paper. All were disappointed. As the hound had sneaked off, Gyp was left to bear the entire blame. The police summoned the dog catcher.
The only protector of the little family around the corner was about to be taken away, when who should appear but the friendly traffic officer, who knew Gyp and came to his rescue. He testified to the dog’s good character and vouched for his keeping the peace. After being patted on the head and admonished by his friend “to be a good dog,” Gyp was allowed to go back to his post of duty—watching the little family.
Time dragged around to Christmas. Then the governor learned that a mistake had been made in the case of Gyp’s master. The master was released from prison and permitted to go home.
It was a joyous holiday for them all. The judge who had tried the case, desiring to make amends for the error, offered to help the good master to get work in the city’s garbage disposal division. But the poor fellow was so humiliated, and his health so broken, that he decided to go to a warmer climate, where he could be out in the sunshine and regain his strength.
The judge, feeling that an injustice had been done the man, wrote to the mayor of this southern town where Gyp and his master had gone. This recommendation caused the master to be put on the pay roll, so the faithful dog and his beloved owner were now partners in this business of gathering the waste of the city.
It was through those friendly little dachshunds that Gyp had become involved in this mess. Now, however, there seemed to be a better feeling established among all of them, and the story which Gyp told them had the effect of enlisting their sympathy and admiration, so that things looked brighter for him.
Presently Gyp was not “only the garbage man’s dog.” He was counted a real hero by the better class of dogs, and if they were free to follow their own natural inclinations, they would be real friendly with him; but there were their owners to contend with, and for their amusement, they would, they supposed, have to go on suppressing their good impulses. At any rate, all of them promised themselves that they would speak to Gyp when no one was watching them. Yes, they would even go out to the garbage wagon when they could, and they would not feel “uppish” toward him any more.