Poetical as the dog is at all times
Poetical as the dog is at all times, I know of no circumstance that develops more pathetically the disposition of the creature than that of pupping. At such a time, the bitch in her agony seems to trust more confidently in mankind. Animals that at other periods have allowed no one to approach them, at such moments have seemed to welcome me, and have appeared to comprehend the motive which brought me to their sides. To be examined they submit; and the pain it will often occasion may cause the animal to cry, but it draws forth no sign of resentment. The eyes are fixed upon the operator, as if to tell him of the suffering, and entreat for his sympathy. The expression of the face is mild and even plaintive; but, if possible, still more appealing are the endeavors the creature almost invariably makes to assist her attendant's designs. She seems, by some process that I cannot otherwise than consider to be a mental one, to comprehend human motives, and to more than appreciate our intentions. Her gratitude now would appear to be intense, and her confidence to be boundless. Where I have reluctantly been necessitated to resort to force, the dragging of a dead pup through a swollen passage has produced the pain which brought a sharp shriek from the animal; the agony has been such that even the fortitude of the canine parent could not silently sustain; and under its almost maddening influence, the head has been turned instinctively to bite. The natural impulse, however, was never fully gratified; the nose has touched my hand, but the jaws have closed before they grasped it. I have then distinctly felt the snapping motion, and plainly heard the teeth rattle as they quickly hit against each other, but they have never injured me. The dog could not repress the natural instinct; but though the hand was against its mouth, the noble beast has bitten the air.
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