While he spoke an old hound, lying near, pricked up his ears and lifted up his muzzle. This was Argos, trained as a puppy by Odysseus, but never taken on a hunt before his master sailed for Troy. The young men, afterward, hunted wild goats with him, and hare, and deer, but he had grown old in his master’s absence. Treated as rubbish now, he lay at last upon a mass of dung before the gates—manure of mules and cows, piled there until field hands could spread it on the king’s estate.
Abandoned there, and half destroyed with flies, old Argos lay. But when he knew he heard Odysseus’ voice nearby, he did his best to wag his tail, nose down, with flattened ears, having no strength to move nearer his master. And the man looked away, wiping a salt tear from his cheek.
From “The Odyssey” by Homer
This post is meant to be a tribute to our dogs. In this ancient story—written seven centuries before the birth of Christ—Argos reacts to the return of Odysseus. He was a puppy when his master sailed for Troy. Now, after waiting twenty years for this moment, the dog can die in peace. Homer describes the heartbreaking scene of their reencounter. Examples of dog’s loyalty to humans abound. In my first book, “The Silver Teacup,” there is a tale entitled “The Old Man and the Dog,” which is based on a real story. Here is a snippet from it:
When the first daylight seeped through the windowpanes, Canelo became restless. His master, who should have been up, had not stirred awake. The dog jumped on Manuel’s bed, licked his master’s face, clenched the blanket with his mouth and pulled it down. No response. The old man lay still, eyes turned toward the window staring into emptiness, mouth twisted toward the opposite side, dry saliva on the corner of the lips, and limbs flaccid. Nothing moved but for an irregular heaving of Manuel’s chest that barely disturbed the nightshirt. The dog paced around, baying, circling the bed back and forth, pawing his master’s feet and hands, and barking at him. A high-pitched wail arose from deep in Canelo’s throat. He sat and gazed intently at his master awaiting a reaction. All his efforts were futile. He pawed open the unlocked kitchen window, jumped down into the inner courtyard, rushed across the patio, and planted himself before the neighbor’s window barking with all his might.
