me, cut both ways. There are, indeed, many human feelings which the dog evinces in a marked way, and often upon very little provocation. The dog, for instance, expresses anger precisely as we do, and, in accordance with the human precept, “When the boy hits you, kick the post,” will bite his friend to show his displeasure at a stranger. I had a little bull-terrier which went frantic if a pedlar or beggar came to the door, and, being restrained from flying at the innocent itinerant, would rush out as soon as released into the shrubbery and go for the gardener. The gardener knew the dog’s ways, for he had had a sharp nip vicariously before, and when he saw Nellie on her way towards him, used to charge her with a lawn mower. Now at other times the gardener and Nellie were inseparable friends, and, weather permitting, the gardener’s coat and waistcoat were Nellie’s favorite bed. In human nature it is much the same, when the husband, because the news in the paper is disagreeable, grumbles at his wife’s cap.
Hatred also the dog feels keenly, — in the matter of cats notably. I have seen one of the exceptionally intelligent dogs referred to above, stop and jump under a tree for an hour, and go back every day for a month afterwards to jump about ridiculously under the same tree, all because a cat which he had once been after, and wanted to catch, had got up that tree out of his way. There is no doubt in my mind whatever, from that dog’s behavior, that he hated the cat.
Jealousy again is a common trait, and in Thornley’s book there is an instance given of a dog that was so jealous of another pet that when the latter died, and had been stuffed, he always snarled if attention was drawn to the glass case from which his rival gazed with glassy
