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Elizabeth Goudge’s The Little White Horse,
1946, was a particular favorite, although I didn’t know when I read it
that it was critically acclaimed and won a Carnegie medal. In it, Wrolf, a
large dog (possibly a lion), a little white horse (possibly a unicorn), and
other wonderful creatures join the orphan Maria in her adventures. Maria’s
dog, Wiggins, decidedly not one of the glorious, magical, and heroic
creatures surrounding Maria, is especially well characterized:
"Wiggins was greedy,
conceited, bad-tempered, selfish and lazy. It was the belief of Maria (and
her governess) that he loved them devotedly because he always kept close to
their heels, wagged his tail politely when spoken to, and even kissed them
upon occasion. But all that Wiggins did not from affection but because he
thought it was good policy."
Isn’t Goudge’s description terrific? Nearly everyone has met a
dog like Wiggins.
Goudge also includes interesting dogs in
The Rosemary Tree, 1956. In the book, Baba, a poor little Pekinese
terribly mistreated by his mistress, is rescued by Winkle, the youngest
child in the Wentworth family, as a present for her mother. Baba is
eventually adopted by the Wentworths. But he must be accepted by Walsingham,
the senior Wentworth dog, who lives with Winkle’s aunt. Winkle presents
Baba to Walsingham, who isn’t certain that Baba is even a dog; he
thinks poor Baba is an object. But it’s Walsingham’s duty to check out the
interloper, whatever it may be, and so:
"[Walsingham] growled
slightly, and in paroxysms of alarm the object rolled over on its back on
the stones, its ridiculous forepaws clutched at its chest and its hind legs
stretched out in a manner expressive of the depth of abject humility. Its
chest, like his own, was white. He had a soft spot for white-chested dogs.
Shirtfronts always gave an air of distinction to a gentleman… Was that a
gentleman? He advanced his nose half an inch and definitely smelt good
breeding. He relaxed.
Baba crept as near as he
dared… They communed together. ‘Sir,’ said Baba, ‘I had a bad home and now
I have a good one. I have, now, a mistress who will keep faith. I adore my
mistress, Sir, and have gained a refuge for my old age.’ Walsingham
replied, ‘Sir, you may remain.’ He slept and Baba did the same."
I recently reread Josephine Tey’s Brat Farrar, 1950, an
excellent mystery. Tey is justly famously for her characters, and in this
228-page book, includes seven major and 45 minor characters, two which are
horses, Fourposter and Timber. The horses are exceptionally well-done; one
of them, Timber, is unforgettable.
Still, nothing could have prepared me for Jane
Smiley’s Horse Heaven, 2000, another book on my top 100 novels list.
This 561-page book includes 42 human characters, six horses and Eileen, a
very interesting dog. Here’s how Smiley introduces Eileen:
"On the way to the kitchen,
he passed the library, his office that adjoined the library, the weight
room, the guest bathroom, the living room, and the dining room. In every
room, his wife had laid a Persian carpet of exceptional quality—his wife had
an eye for quality in all things—and it seemed like every Persian carpet in
every room every morning was adorned with tiny dark, dense turds deposited
there by Eileen, the Jack Russell terrier. Eileen herself was nestled up in
bed with his wife, apparently sleeping, since she didn’t even raise her head
when Mr. Maybrick arose, but Mr. Maybrick knew she was faking. No Jack
Russell sleeps through movement of any kind except as a ruse.
…a Jack Russell was about
making noise, killing small animals and dragging their carcasses into the
house, attacking much larger dogs, refusing to be house-trained, and in all
other ways living a primitive life. …the trainer had been able to do only
one thing with her, which was stop her from barking, and thank God for that,
because if the trainer had not stopped Eileen from barking, Mr. Maybrick
would have had to strangle her…
Now Eileen trotted into the
room. It was clear to Mr. Maybrick that the dog was intentionally ignoring
him. She clicked over to her bowl and checked it, took a drink from the
water dish, circumnavigated the cooking island, and then, casually, leapt
onto the granite counter and trotted toward the sink. “Get down, Eileen,”
said Mr. Maybrick. It was as if he hadn’t spoken. Eileen cocked her little
tan head and peered into the garbage disposal, noting that the stopper was
in place. Her little stump of a tail flicked a couple of times, and she
seemed to squat down. She stretched her paw toward the stopper, but her
legs were too short; she couldn’t reach it. She surveyed the situation for
a moment, then went behind the sink, picked up a pinecone that had been
hidden there, and jumped down. Only now did she look at Mr. Maybrick. She
dropped the pinecone at his slippered feet and backed up three steps, her
snapping black gaze boring into his. “I don’t want to do that, Eileen,” he
said. Her strategy was to take little steps backward and forward and then
spin in a tight circle, gesturing at the pinecone with her nose. But she
never made a sound.
‘You’re not a retriever,
Eileen, you’re a terrier. Go outside and kill something.’
Indeed, Eileen was a
terrier, and with terrier determination, she resolved that Mr. Maybrick
would ultimately throw the pinecone. She continued dancing, every few
seconds picking up the pinecone and dropping it again. She was getting
cuter and cuter. That was her weapon. Mr. Maybrick considered her a very
manipulative animal. He looked away from her and took another sip of his
(third) cup of coffee…
With his eyes closed, [Mr.
Maybrick] could hear her drop the pinecone rhythmically on the tile, chock
chock chock chock, the bass, her little toenails clicking a tune around
it…And then, while his eyes were still closed, dog and pinecone arrived
suddenly in his lap, a hard, dense little weight but live, electric. With
the shock, he nearly dropped his coffee cup, and as it was, spilled on the
counter. ‘God damn it!’ he shouted. Eileen jumped down and trotted away.”
(Jane Smiley, Horse Heaven, New York: Ballantine, 2001, 9, 12-13,
First edition 2000. For more on Smiley and her books, see
www.randomhouse.com/features/smiley/.)
Like Tey’s
horse Timber, Eileen is unforgettable; and that’s just the beginning of
Eileen’s story; it gets better and better. Remember, there are also those
six horses – each with an individual story and personality – as well as some
fascinating human beings. This is not a mystery, but a “must read”,
especially for those who are trying to develop interesting characters.
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