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I call him Whiskie he's a Whis-Skye terrier. It was Dr. John Brown, of Edinboro', who once spoke in sincere sympathy of the man who "led a dog-less life." It was Mr. "Josh Billings" who said that in the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money cannot buy, to wit: the wag of a dog's tail.
And whatever The Boy is, he has tried, for Thackeray's sake, "to be a good one!" In doggerel lines, Whiskie my dog I sing. These lines are after Virgil, Pope, or some one. His very voice has got a Whiskie Ring. I call him Whiskie, 'cause he's such a rum one. His is a high-whine, and his nip has power, Hot-Scotch his temper, but no Punch is merrier; Not Rye, not Schnappish, he's no Whiskie-Sour.
I forgot ye can swaller nothin' but Toorko cum, squaki lorum ho po, doddie jairum frango whiskie looro whack? eh! Arrah! ye don't need to answer for fear the effort opens up yer wounds afresh. Farewell, lads, or may be it's wishin' ye fair-wind would be more nat'ral."
And then he is going, with these faithful, devoted dogs at his heels, to talk about dogs with Dr. John Brown, Sir Edwin Landseer, and Mr. "Josh Billings." The first dog, Whiskie, was an alleged Skye terrier, coming, alas! from a clouded, not a clear, sky.
Whiskie always gave her precedence, and once when he, for a moment, forgot himself and started to go out of the dining-room door before her, she deliberately slapped him in the face; whereupon he drew back instantly, like the gentleman he was, and waited for her to pass.
He hated all cats but his own cat, by whom he was bullied in a most outrageous way. Whiskie had the sense of shame and the sense of humor. One warm summer evening, the family was sitting on the front steps, after a refreshing shower of rain, when Whiskie saw a cat in the street, picking its dainty way among the little puddles of water.
He was, at the beginning, not popular with the seniors; but he was so honest, so ingenuous, so "square," that he made himself irresistible, and he soon became even dearer to the father and to the mother than he was to The Boy. Whiskie was not an amiable character, except to his own people.
But there he was, and the society which a good man founded saw not Mop that day. The end came soon afterwards. And Mop has gone on to join Whiskie and Punch in their waiting for The Boy. The family went abroad for a year's stay, when Mop died, and they rented the house to good people and good tenants, who have never been forgiven for one particular act.
Whiskie was fourteen or fifteen years of age in 1882, when the mother went to join the father, and The Boy was taken to Spain by a good aunt and cousins. Whiskie was left at home to keep house with the two old servants who had known him all his life, and were in perfect sympathy with him.
But he knew they were laughing at him; and if ever a dog felt sheepish, and looked sheepish if ever a dog said, "What an idiot I've made of myself!" Whiskie was that dog. The cat was a martinet in her way, and she demanded all the privileges of her sex.
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