Part I Chapter 11 Doctor Dolittle's Garden by Hugh Lofting
THE TOP-KNOT TERRIERS
Professor Quetch was given quite as much applause as any story-teller who had gone before him. When it had subsided Jip, as President of the Club, got up to thank him formally on behalf of the audience.
This over, Jip went on to say that since no story had yet been slated to follow Quetch's, he would like to know if any members had suggestions to make about filling out the remainder of the evening's entertainment.
Then one dog got up (he was a cross between a St. Bernard and a mastiff) and said that he thought a story about the Doctor would be a good idea. These stories that they had heard were very good of their kind, but he felt that the members would like to hear one about John Dolittle himself.
Jip agreed that this was a good idea. Then he started to count off the dogs, besides himself, who had lived a considerable time with the Doctor. There was Swizzle the clown dog; Toby the Punch-and-Judy dog; Kling the detective dog; Blackie the retriever and Grab the bulldog. Each of these in turn was asked if he could think of any incident in his life with the Doctor which would make a good story.
But none of them seemed to be able to remember on the spur of the moment anything that could be considered complete enough. Then the Sea Dog (who had already told us a thrilling yarn out of his own adventures on the deep) got up and said:
"I think that Jip himself, who has after all known John Dolittle longer than any of us, ought to tell us a story about the Doctor."
At this there were many "Hear, hears!" from the members. And Jip felt that he had to get up and make some reply.
"All right," said he, "in that case I think I'll tell you the story of how John Dolittle invented the Top-knot Terrier. You know then of course that the Doctor has never cared very much whether a dog was what is known as a thoroughbred. Whether a dog had a nice personality, or was intelligent, was far more important to him. Well, some years ago there was a certain rich and high-born lady, known as the Dowager Countess of Battlebridge, who realized that the Doctor was a great man. This was curious; because people as a class usually think him something of a crank. That, as many of you know, has always had the effect of making him keep very much to himself and the animal world. But the Dowager Countess of Battlebridge was an exception—an exceptional woman all round, in fact. She was extremely interested in, and fond of, animals and she had a great admiration for the Doctor's knowledge of animal medicine. She did not, any more than the rest of the world, believe that he could talk animal languages. But she saw that he certainly had a great gift for communicating ideas to them and getting them to understand what he wanted. She had a whole lot of dogs of her own and was a great authority on breeds, attending all the shows, where she was very often one of the judges.
"Whenever any of her animals were sick she always got the Doctor to attend to them, maintaining that he was the only veterinary surgeon in the country worthy of the title. Among her dogs she had one very jolly little poodle called Juanita—frightfully thoroughbred, prize-winner and all that.
"One day Juanita was missing. The Dowager Countess was in despair. She put advertisements in all the papers, hired detectives to hunt for the dog, and everything. All to no purpose. Juanita the prize poodle had disappeared as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed her up.
"One evening when I and the Doctor were in the study we heard a tapping at the window. I knew that tap. I had heard it before. It was Cheapside the Cockney sparrow knocking on the glass with his bill.
"'Well, Doctor,' says he as soon as he was let in, 'where do you think Juanita the prize poodle is hiding? In your stable.'
"'In my stable!' cried the Doctor. 'What a place to choose when she had the most luxurious home in the country to live in!'
"'Yes, but listen, Doctor,' says Cheapside, coming closer and lowering his voice. 'That isn't all. She's got puppies—five of 'em, the queerest little things you ever saw. They've got top-knots on their heads like Fiji Islanders. Look like a cross between a weasel and a pin-cushion. I reckon she's ashamed of 'em, is Juanita—being they're so queer-looking—and that's why she has kept in hiding.'
"'Oh, well,' said the Doctor, 'let's go down and take a look at them right away.'
"Thereupon we all proceeded to the stable with a lantern. And under an old manger, among some straw and autumn leaves, we found Juanita and her family. I am bound to say that Cheapside's description had not been in the least exaggerated. They were queer. At first I could scarcely believe they were dogs at all. It was only by the smell of them that I was sure.
"'My goodness, Juanita,' said the Doctor, 'why didn't you let me know you were here all the time?'
"'Well,' said she, 'for one thing I didn't want to put you in an embarrassing position with regard to the Countess. And for another I—er—I—er-'
"She looked at the queer puppies and paused. She seemed dreadfully awkward and ill at ease.
"'They're hardly thoroughbred, you see, Doctor,' she said at last. 'I didn't know what my mistress would say or do about them. Frankly, I was scared. The Countess, as you know, only has dogs of the highest pedigree in her kennels.'
"'Well,' said the Doctor,'I think they are a very jolly-looking lot. These top-knots are quite unique—and very smart in my opinion. Are they intelligent?'
"'Oh, yes, indeed,' said Juanita brightening up and showing no end of motherly pride. 'They're the cleverest lot of puppies I ever had.'
"That, as you can imagine, got the Doctor more interested than anything she could have said. And finally he became tremendously keen on these queer puppies—so keen that he took them across from the stable to his house, where they made themselves a great nuisance to Dab-Dab the housekeeper. They ran all over the place and you stumbled on them everywhere you went.
"Nevertheless there was no denying that they were, as the Doctor had said, distinctly unusual. Clever wasn't the word for them: they were positively uncanny. I have never seen anything like it. Usually it takes a dog years to learn anything about human speech and what it means—if indeed he ever does. But these little beggars seemed to catch on to all that was happening or being said in any language right away. Dab-Dab continued to storm and insisted that they be put back in the stable; but the Doctor said—
"'No, Dab-Dab. These pups are an extraordinary case of animal intelligence. They must stay. I want to study them. Why, they have real brains, Dab-Dab—real brains!'
"'They're mongrels,' she snapped—'homely mongrels at that.'
"'I don't care,' said the Doctor. 'They represent a distinct advance in animal intelligence.'
"Juanita, who had up to this been scared and ashamed about how they would be received, now began to put on no end of airs as the mother of the most intelligent puppies on record. The Doctor gave them all sorts of tests to demonstrate how clever they were. I do believe that he had hopes of some day getting them to take up mathematics and science—if not to run for Parliament. He was quite excited and worked up over it.
"Not a great while after Juanita's presence in the stable had been announced by Cheapside the Doctor felt that he ought to notify the Dowager Countess of Battlebridge; for she was still very disturbed over her prize poodle's disappearance. The good lady was overjoyed at the news and immediately asked that Juanita be restored to her home. But the poor puppies, since they were not thoroughbred, she was not in the least interested in. Then the Doctor took two whole hours trying to explain to her that she was wrong.
"'Don't you see,' said he, 'how much more important it is that Juanita has brought an unusually intelligent kind of a dog into the world than that her children should carry on some set type of breed?'
"Well, the Doctor, after talking very enthusiastically for quite a while about the brilliant intellects of these puppies got the Countess herself interested too. She asked to see them. And the Doctor took her over to the house at once to show them to her.
"And it didn't take those pups long to win the Countess's heart. But after she had raved over them a while she seemed a bit ashamed of herself.
"'Oh, but just look at them, Doctor!' she cried—'with these delightfully absurd, woolly mope on their heads. They're darlings; but they're mongrels. I'd be ashamed to have them in the house.'
"'Yes, I know. But after all,' said the Doctor, 'breed in dogs is a very artificial thing. Hardly any of the races which are popular to-day are pure native dogs. The Bull Terrier, the Pomeranian, the Black-and-tan: they have all been produced by crossbreeding in the first instance. The only true original breeds are the Esquimaux sleigh dog, the Dingo of Australia and one or two more. Now what I was going to suggest is this: you are a famous authority on dogs with society and the Kennel Club. It is within your power to popularize this new breed which Juanita has given to the world and make it the vogue of the day. Why, only last month Sir Barnaby Scrogley produced a new race which he called the Bob-tailed Bolivian Beagle. It has since become quite fashionable. His breed hasn't the wits of a cockroach—I know, because I've talked with them. Whereas these puppies of Juanita's surpass anything in dog intelligence I ever met.'
"This set the Countess thinking. As a matter of fact she was quite jealous of Lady Scrogley, Sir Barnaby's wife, who was another well-known woman authority on dogs and frequently acted as judge at the Kennel Club shows. The idea of producing a new breed which should outshine, as the fad of the moment, the Scrogleys' Bolivian Beagles appealed to the Dowager Countess immensely.
"'Humph!' she said at last. 'And what, Doctor, would you call this breed? It doesn't look like anything that has ever been registered so far on the Kennel Club's books.'
"'We'd call it The Top-knot Terrier,' said John Dolittle—'a smart name for a very smart dog. I'm sure they would be popular.'
"'Humph!' said the Countess again. 'Perhaps you're right. They certainly are awfully attractive mites.... Well—er—you must give me a little time to think it over.'
"The next day the Countess called on the Doctor and told him that she had decided to follow his suggestion. The puppies were all brushed and combed and their top-knots were trimmed (by a French barber) into a very smart shape. They were then taken over to the Countess' mansion and adopted into the household with all due ceremony and honour.
"The result of this was exactly as the Doctor had predicted. They became the rage in a week. The Dowager Countess took one or two with her everywhere she went. And since she was such a very important figure in sporting society these unusual dogs were remarked upon, talked about and written up in the papers. Every one wanted to know what the breed was. He was told: The Top-knot Terrier. It was repeated everywhere. But the Countess went the Doctor one better. Seeing that the Scrogleys had produced a race of beagles from Bolivia, she wove a wonderful story about the Top-knots coming from some remote island in the South Seas. And they finally became known as the "Fijian Top-knots.' And if you claimed to be in the fashion, not to have a Fijian Top-knot just put you outside the pale instantly. The Countess was besieged with letters inquiring about the breed—where could they be obtained? what were they fed on? etc., etc.
"She was delighted—because not only did her new breed entirely outshine the Scrogleys' Bolivian Beagles, but it earned its popularity by real brains and natural charm. The Fijian Top-knots were known to be able to do anything short of book-keeping and astronomy. Also, for the present anyhow, they were nearly priceless—because there were only five of them and all the fashionable ladies in the land were falling over one another to buy them.
"The Shah of Persia, who happened to be visiting London just then, simply insisted that he wouldn't be happy unless he could take one back to Teheran with him. The Dowager Countess refused outright, saying she didn't know what sort of treatment they would receive in Persia. But a special request arrived from the Prime Minister that this whim of the foreign monarch should be gratified. And one of Juanita's children sailed away in the Shah's suite. We learned afterwards that the pup was treated very well—but got dreadfully fat eating too many sweetmeats in the Shah's harem.
"The Doctor was very pleased, for, in its way, this was a great triumph.
"That just shows you, Jip,' said he to me one evening, as he was reading his newspaper in front of the fire, 'how utterly absurd is this idea of thoroughbredness in dogs being so much more desirable than cross-breeding. Here we have made a regular mongrel into the last word of up-to-dateness. And all because we called in the aid of a few society people. The whole thing is just a question of fashion, Jip. Just fashion—nothing more."