Today in History: Jack Russell was born on this day in 1795. While he was a cleric and an enthusiastic fox-hunter we now know him best as the man who developed the Jack Russell Terrier, a variety of the Fox Terrier breed. Before Russell's time, there were just a few dog breeds, with one of the oldest breeds being the Greyhound. During the Victorian era there was an explosion of dog breeding and dogs were bred to conform to every personality and look. The American Kennel Club now recognizes 195 breeds, with 79 additional breeds working toward full recognition, although Wikipedia lists hundreds more.
However, all breeds come from just one dog, a Gray Wolf in Asia. In fact, most of the oldest dog breeds around are Asian: Shanxi Xigou (Chinese Saluki), Tibetan Mastiff, Siberian Husky, Shiba Inu, Akita Inu, Chinese Shar-pei, Chow Chow, Japanese Chin, Tibetan Spaniel, Pekingese, Lhasa Apso and the Shih Tzu.
Asia also has a recent hero dog story, that of Saihu. On 28 November 2003, a chef in Jiujiang, Jiangxi Province, southern China was preparing dinner for almost 30 people at a driving school. The smell of the cooking meat attracted some nearby puppies to the school, along with their mother, Saihu. The chef threw some scraps of meat from the pot to the puppies, but strangely, the puppies' mother prevented them from eating. Saihu also kept barking at the chef, as well as the people who were preparing to eat. Confused but undeterred, the people prepared to eat the meal the chef had made. Saihu became panicked and ran around barking at the guests, before finally eating all the scraps the chef had thrown to the dogs. After just a few minutes, Saihu fell dead on the floor. The guests, shocked at the dog's death, stopped eating the meal. They called a policeman as well as some doctors, who discovered poison in the meat. No people or puppies died. Everyone was convinced that Saihu must have smelled the poison and had saved the people and her puppies by sacrificing herself. The people of Jiujaing were so grateful to Saihu that they set up a tomb in a human graveyard and a statue to memorialize the dog.
The Power of the Dog by Rudyard Kipling
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
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