A Leon and Levy postcard of an idyllic Edwardian scene of paddlers and a dog who is just not ready to take the plunge. A decade or so earlier Sgt Edward Owen had an unpleasant duty to perform in relation to dogs in the park.
“When Constabulary duty’s to be done-to be done,
A Policeman’s lot is not a happy one-happy one!”
"So sings the policeman in Sullivan’s “ Pirates of Penzance,” and I really think I never had a greater realization of those words than when the “rabies,” or dog muzzling order, was so rigorously enforced, I believe some time in the eighties. In many instances I am afraid it brought the police into rather unfavourable popularity, for the order was most rigidly carried out-rich and poor, big dogs and little dogs all alike to knuckle under. As to its beneficial results to the general public there can be no doubt for people must bear in mind that, apart from the “muzzling order“ insuring the public safety against a dog (however well cared for) that may become rabid at any moment, especially so during what are known as ‘‘the dog days,” it further had the effect of clearing the parks and streets of hundreds of half starved mangy mongrels that had hitherto been roaming about at large, to the common danger of possibly communicating that terrible malady hydrophobia-of course that is not to say but what the police are “ constantly “ taking the precaution to seize homeless and stray dogs still I would like to impress the fact, that the order, when in force, facilitated the clearance of considerable greater number of these undesirable curs. Consequently the temporary trifling inconvenience caused by having to comply with this “order‘‘surely is more than adequately compensated for. At the same time it did appear to me to be almost an absurdity to be constantly having to request a lady or gentleman to keep a dog muzzled, although no bigger than a cat, say for instance a toy Skye or fox terrier; but however ridiculous it may have appeared-as they frequently retorted, “duty had to be done.” I had occasion once to make such a request to the late Sir Henry Irving while walking in the Green Park with his little dog. I have always remembered the incident on account of the jocular observation the great actor made to me. Having politely called his attention to the order, Sir Henry stopped, and said very good humouredly, “Who made this order? “ I replied, ‘‘The Chief Commissioner.” “Indeed,” said he; “I don’t think the Chief Commissioner knows what he is talking about.” That opinion I did not attempt to discuss, for Sir Henry readily applied the necessary article on the little dog’s head, and continued his walk round the Park. I need hardly state, it was not everyone so requested who would be quite so agreeable.
So many owners of dogs appear to imagine that once inside the Park they were at liberty to remove its headgear, and allow it to have a free run. I suppose it was only natural, after all, they should have this consideration for their canine friends or pets ; unfortunately for them, however, the law did not extend such consideration, for there is no more reason to believe why a dog should not become mad in the parks as in the streets. Hence invariably the unpleasant altercation between policeman and owner.
One case I remember well. I was rather pathetically impressed at the grief of a little five year old boy, who, in company with his governess in Hyde Park one morning, had their dog taken away from them by a policeman. Singular to relate, it was a little son of the late First Commissioner of Royal Parks and Gardens-Lord Windsor (Earl of Plymouth). But in this case they had omitted to bring even the muzzle with them, forgotten it-or were perhaps unconscious of the order; at any rate, the dog was promptly seized by a constable, who, as I appeared on the scene, was leading it off towards the police station. What most attracted my attention was the agitated state of the governess and distress of the little fellow at the apparent loss of their companion. I approached them, and would gladly have endeavoured to console their feelings by explaining that the seizure would only be temporary, and presently things would be all right. But the governess would not give me the opportunity, for, taking hold of the little boy’s hand-I can now recall seeing him in his “kilt suit” sobbing bitterly-she rushed out of the Park at Grosvenor Gate, in the direction of home, as though her very life depended upon it, presumably to impart the news to her master or mistress. I sharply followed after the constable, and upon overtaking him I said, “Who does the dog belong to?” at the same time stooping down, I examined the plate on its collar, where engraved was the name Lady Windsor, etc., etc. There was, however, no alternative but for doggie-a little, short-legged, timid-looking creature, if I remember rightly, what we would describe as a “Daschund “-to go through the usual process. The constable was only carrying out his duty, but I took steps that no time was lost in a message being sent to the residence of her ladyship to inform her that upon the production of a muzzle and payment of the authorised fee at the police station, Hyde Park, the dog would he given up to her or those who represented her. It is scarcely necessary to state this was immediately complied with, and all ended amicably.
Of course there were pleasant as well as unpleasant encounters with the police and public in connection with dogs. Considering the length of time I was in Hyde Park, my reader cannot wonder but that I had many opportunities, in one way and another, of rendering service on behalf of that most sagacious animal, especially in the case of ladies, for many were the anxious faces I have seen come to make enquiries respecting the lost, strayed, or even stolen dogs; and many are the grateful thanks bestowed for enquiries made or information given, resulting in the restoration of their lost favourites. I could rake up many incidents that perhaps would be interesting in such cases. I will, however, conclude with a short story of the extraordinary friendliness shown by a dog towards the police, for as a rule dogs do not like policemen, they always appeared to me to fight shy of us; I narrate this particular story because this dog was certainly an exception to the rule. “Prince”- a beautiful Dalmatian (or as some people describe them, “carriage dogs “) was brought in by a constable, apparently having lost itself among the busy traffic. His name, with name and address of owner-a lady residing in the neighbourhood of Lancaster Gate. Hyde Park,-were engraved on collar. He was taken down into the stable-yard and chained up, and information sent to the owner in the ordinary way. I think it is pretty generally known that the police do not, under any circumstances, restore lost dogs at the residences of their owners they or their servants must attend at the police station. “Prince “was eventually sent for, and handed over. About a day or two afterwards he was brought in again by another constable, with the same formality. I am afraid my readers will credit me with “stretching it” to say he very shortly was brought in the third time ; but most assuredly he was, and by a constable who stated the dog would not leave him, and that he had no alternative. This was getting beyond a joke, and I could not say who got tired first-we in communicating, or the owner in replying. Of one thing I am sure not a week passed during that season without “Prince“ giving us a visit. If no one would accompany him, he found his way alone into the station, and after a walk round through the various rooms, and, as we used to say, had “reported himself” and received a few pats and strokes from us, which he evidently appeared very much to appreciate, “Prince “would then quickly take his departure and trot off in the direction of home.
Finally, in closing this subject-for the information of owners or those in charge of dogs who may not happen to know-I will endeavour to briefly describe the appearance of dogs that become rabid, or are seized with fits (fits are most prevalent in the hot weather). I do not profess to be an expert on canine diseases, but I claim to have had a certain amount of experience with such cases in the Park, and possibly what I am able to state may not be without some helpfulness in alleviating or ending the sufferings of any unfortunate animal that may be so affected. The symptoms indicating a dog as being rabid or (mad) are its excited rushing about, yelping, snapping, an unnatural glare of the eyes, and foaming at the mouth, and the sooner it can be destroyed the better for every one concerned. In the case of a dog seized with a fit, is that it usually drops on its side and rapidly works its legs as though running, occasionally pivoting its body round like a wheel. Buckets or cans of water liberally thrown or poured on the head I always found to be most effectual in restoring the dog to its natural state again".
