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DEATH OF A GREAT DOG

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Apr 24, 1900

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 77, No. 17.

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DEATH OF A GREAT DOG.

By Editor

Chicago Times-Herald—Editorial.
In the opinion of the experts who run kennel shows, there may have been greater dogs than Bozzie, the remarkable collie that died from poisoning in Chicago, Thursday; but no one who ever witnessed her wonderful performances will acknowledge it. Other valuable dogs are chiefly noteworthy on account of their pedigrees and “points” under the eye and tape of the judge in the ring, or perhaps for their superior gifts in the field or chase. They win fame for excelling in dog-like qualities according to breed and class.
But in Bozzie was developed something that made her more than dog, something so near the human, and a gift in some way transcending the intelligence of man, that we are not likely ever to see her like again. It is only a few day since Bozzie gave an exhibition of her powers before members of the university club. She added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided as accurately and rapidly as a well-trained schoolboy. Bozzie had no words to give her answers, but gave them in quick, short barks. When the numbers ran over eleven or twelve, she would divide her barks, as two barks, then a pause, and four more barks, for twenty-four.
On the occasion just referred to she was asked the number of those present. After taking note of them as a well-trained collie might of a flock of sheep, she barked off the number correctly. Then she was asked, “How many wear glasses?” Taking a rapid survey of the room, she barked three times. She was wrong, and was told to try again. This time she poked around among those present, and found a fourth wearer of glasses who had been completely hidden from her casual glance, and then she gave her four sharp barks with an emphasis that challenged dispute.
On one of her welcome visits to the Times-Herald building, Bozzie was asked how many persons were in the business office. After inspecting the whole department, she barked twenty-six in her peculiar method of two and six. She was then asked, “How many are women?” and promptly answered Four. This was thought to be a mistake, for only three were visible. So Bozzie was asked to try again. But she stuck to her four barks, and running behind one of the desks indicated where the fourth girl was hidden by the top of the desk as she bent over her work.
Similar instances of Bozzie’s remarkable arithmetical gifts could be multiplied indefinitely. It remains, however, to speak of the inexplicable feats she performed, which discount those of legerdemain and enter the domain of the marvelous if not incredible. An observer would be asked to place his hand on Bozzie’s head and think of a number. In response to her master, she would bark out the number. Her owner, George B. Clason, to whom we tender the sympathy of all who knew Bozzie and love dogs, would retire from the room, and the dog would give the correct answer all the same. She could be blindfolded,and in silence the company would fix its thoughts on a number indicated by one holding up fingers. Bozzie would instantly respond with the corresponding number of barks.
On one occasion when Bozzie visited the office of the Times-Herald, she was asked to tell the age of Peter, the colored sentinel of the editorial rooms. Peter was asked to place his hand on Bozzie’s head, and think of the two figures representing his age. Without hesitation or a word spoken, Bozzie barked four times. Then, after a pause, she barked eight times, hesitated, and gave a half-hearted yelp for nine.
During this performance Peter’s face was a study of mingled amazement, incredulity, and awe. When Bozzie had stumbled over the ninth bark, Mr. Clason asked Peter how he had thought of his age. Peter explained that he first fixed his mind on forty-eight; but while Bozzie was barking, he bethought himself that he was nearer forty-nine than forty-eight years old, and so began questioning mentally whether he should not have given himself the benefit of one more year’s experience in this vale of tears.
By what process of mental telegraphy did this dog read the thoughts of Peter or anyone concentrating them on numerals? This is a question that baffles the wisdom of the wisest; and yet this dog, the victim of as criminal a piece of brutality as was ever committed, performed it without hesitation and without mistake. Bozzie was as beautiful and gentle as she was gifted beyond her kind.