In every town where people dwell there is also a dog town. This I learned partly from observing Master Frisky and his friends, and part of it Frisky told me after I learned to understand dog language.
Of course, this town is not as large as that of the people, because every house does not have a dog; and few have more than one, while there are several folks. But the dog town is very important.
The oldest and wisest of the dogs is chosen as a judge or governor; and he has several assistants who help keep order and settle disputes, when there are any, which is not often, for they are generally more peaceable than people.
The choosing of these officers occurs about twice a year; but when a dog is very popular, he is often continued in office for a long time.
The first I noticed of this, was that every morning about seven o'clock Ned would come trotting from house to house. He usually ran into the front yard, and gave one short, sharp bark. At this signal, no matter where he was, if in hearing, Master Frisky would run out to meet him.
They would rub noses; and after standing together for a minute, Ned would trot off to the next house, and so on, until he had made the rounds of the village. No matter how pressing the invitation, he would never loiter on any of these morning rounds, after which he always went directly to the meeting-house shed, which served as a town hall for the dogs, where he would report to the older ones. Ned was a sort of sentinel; and if there was anything out of the ordinary, he always reported to his superiors.
The coming of a litter of puppies was always hailed with great joy; and the proud mother was visited in the afternoon by the judge, when any such event was reported in the morning by the sentinel.
If there had been fighting among the younger dogs during the day, it was reported, and the culprits engaged were reprimanded by those in authority.
Sentinel was the first office that Master Frisky ever filled; and the first morning he played truant, and was severely punished for his negligence by Major Snow, who was then judge of dog town.
Major was a large Newfoundland, and very wise.
Each dog takes the name of his master for his last name; and then, if there are two with the same first name, they do not get mixed up.
Another favorite meeting-place of the dogs is back of Mr. Brown's barn. Here the older ones make laws, and decide upon the management of the town, while the youngsters play tag upon the smooth meadows.
I have often watched them through my telescope, while they deliberated; and their seriousness and dignity are most laughable, and at the same time, respectful.
I think that men could get many points for their political meetings from the dogs.
The worst punishment that is ever resorted to by these law-makers, is to cast a dog out of town, and allow no one to speak to him, or have anything to do with him.
This is very seldom done. I can remember of but one case, and in that instance the dog died of a broken heart.