Lad: A Dog
Page 13
AFTERWORD
The stories of Lad, in various magazines, found unexpectedly kindwelcome. Letters came to me from soldiers and sailors in Europe, fromhosts of children; from men and women, everywhere.
Few of the letter-writers bothered to praise the stories, themselves.But all of them praised Lad, which pleased me far better. Andmore than a hundred of them wanted to know if he were a real dog:and if the tales of his exploits were true.
Perhaps those of you who have followed Lad's adventures, through thesepages, may also be a little interested to know more about him.
Yes, Lad was a "real" dog--the greatest dog by far, I have known orshall know. And the chief happenings in nearly all of my Lad storiesare absolutely true. This accounts for such measure of success as thestories may have won.
After his "Day of Battle," Lad lived for more than two years--stillgallant of spirit, loyally mighty of heart, uncanny of wisdom--stillthe undisputed king of The Place's "Little People."
Then, on a warm September morning in 1918, he stretched himself tosleep in the coolest and shadiest corner of the veranda. And, while heslept, his great heart very quietly stopped beating. He had no pain,no illness, none of the distressing features of extreme age. He hadlived out a full span of sixteen years--years rich in life andhappiness and love.
Surely, there was nothing in such a death to warrant the silly griefthat was ours, nor the heartsick gloom that overhung The Place! Itwas wholly illogical, not to say maudlin. I admit that withoutargument. The cleric-author of "The Mansion Yard" must have known thesame miserable sense of loss, I think, when he wrote:
"Stretched on the hearthrug in a deep content, Fond of the fire as I. Oh, there was something with the old dog went I had not thought could die!"
We buried Lad in a sunlit nook that had been his favorite loungingplace, close to the house he had guarded so long and so gallantly.With him we buried his honorary Red Cross and Blue Cross--awardsfor money raised in his name. Above his head we set a low graniteblock, with a carven line or two thereon.
The Mistress wanted the block inscribed: "The Dearest Dog!" Isuggested: "The Dog God Made." But we decided against both epitaphs.We did not care to risk making our dear old friend's memory ridiculousby words at which saner folk might one day sneer. So on the granite isengraved:
LAD
THOROUGHBRED IN BODY AND SOUL
Some people are wise enough to know that a dog has no soul. These willfind ample theme for mirth in our foolish inscription. But no one, whoknew Lad, will laugh at it.
ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE.
"Sunnybank" Pompton Lakes, New Jersey.
[ Transcriber's Note:
The following is a list of changes made to the original. The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.
_Nineteenth Printing March, 1922_ _Nineteenth Printing, March, 1922_
_Twentieth Printing August, 1922_ _Twentieth Printing, August, 1922_
_Twenty-first Printing Sept. 1922_ _Twenty-first Printing, Sept., 1922_
You're--your're more of a man than I am, old You're--you're more of a man than I am, old
the inner wooden blinds in search the catch. the inner wooden blinds in search of the catch.
formally entered for the Novice class, at the Westminister formally entered for the Novice class, at the Westminster
white sign, was inscribed "COLLIES" Here his white sign, was inscribed "COLLIES." Here his
was apparently no part of the law. And Lad felt was apparently no part of the Law. And Lad felt
Lad was viewing the procedings from the top of Lad was viewing the proceedings from the top of
a bushy tail hung limpy between crooked hind legs; a bushy tail hung limply between crooked hind legs;
Any body, with price to buy a dog, can be an 'owner,' Anybody, with price to buy a dog, can be an 'owner,'
"'_Third_,' the Mistress read, her brows crinkling "'_Third_,'" the Mistress read, her brows crinkling
And Schwartz was an eye-witeness to this--Schwartz, And Schwartz was an eye-witness to this--Schwartz,
"A sight harder, responded Schwartz. "My "A sight harder," responded Schwartz. "My
longily at Schwartz's throat. longingly at Schwartz's throat.
and to accept it He reached into his pocket and and to accept it. He reached into his pocket and
Now, this is no _Mowgili_ tale, but a true narrative. Now, this is no _Mowgli_ tale, but a true narrative.
underlying, the primitive lust for mastery. underling, the primitive lust for mastery.
he laid out his plain of campaign and put he laid out his plan of campaign and put
action." In the battle's wage was an irregular but action." In the battle's wake was an irregular but
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