[ London Times ]
This newspaper, most correctly known simply as The Times, began publication in 1785 and continues to this day.
The April 5, 1826 edition of The Times carried the following account of a rabid Newfoundland:
MAD DOGS
We cannot be too early in calling the attention of families particularly, and indeed of all owners of dogs, to the necessity of attending with care to the condition and security of those animals during the ensuing summer, in order to guard not only their neighbours but themselves against that dreadful disease – hydrophobia. The following narrow escape which a family had on Monday last from this horrible malady will show how suddenly the most cherished and favourite animal may be the destruction of its caressers. Mr. Lloyd, a hatter in the Strand, had a very beautiful Newfoundland dog of uncommon size and strength, but of the most docile and playful disposition: so much so, that he was the constant playfellow of seven young children of Mr. Lloyd's; formerly the dog was usually chained by a collar at night in a dog-kennel, for his use in the back yard; but in the morning, when unchained, his habit was to pay his first visit to the children by scampering into the house up the stairs and into the apartment which the children occupied and from thence to the yard; during the day he had a free ingress and egress, the yard door being generally open. On Monday morning, Mr. Lloyd heard a violent rushing against the yard door, which most providentially at that moment happened to be latched to, and at the same time heard the dog making a very unusual noise, and, opening one of the windows which overlook the yard, he saw the dog with the chain hanging to his neck, having by his strength forced the staple out of its place, which secured him to the kennel; the animal was endeavouring with all his strength to open the yard-door, but Mr. Lloyd at once suspecting that something must be wrong, instantly secured the door; by this time the dog became, to all appearance, raging mad, he howled and barked in a most hideous manner, while the slime and foam poured in vast quantities from his mouth, and his eyes blazed with fire. Mr. Lloyd, with a view to an experiment, procured a pail of water, and dashed it over the animal from the window, which immediately receded with horror from the liquid, and barked and raged with tenfold fury; he dashed himself against the walls of the yard, which fortunately were of a height that he could not attain the reach of, although he occasionally sprang from the ground several feet into the air. Mr. Lloyds first impression was to destroy the animal at once by shooting him, but he was persuaded by some of the neighbours, as the dog was a very fine and valuable one, that perhaps it was only a temporary fit of some sort that affected him; a dog fancier was then sent for, who had wormed the animal when a pup. By the time this man arrived, there was as much excitement in the neighbourhood as to how this dog should be disposed of, as there was upon the destruction of its neighbour the late elephant. The back premises of Mr. Lloyd, where this yard is situated, reach to a court which communicates with the Strand; this court and the yard wall were thronged with spectators; every window and roof-top that overlooked the yard were crowded. The dog-fancier got on the top of the wall, and addressed himself in familiar language to his old acquaintance, hut the dog heeded him not; he threw him a piece of meat but the animal would not touch it, and disregarding all around him he pursued his maddened career. Mr. Lloyd again proposed to shoot the animal, and several of the crowd seconded his proposal; blunderbusses, carbines, muskets, and many other equally destructive instruments were quickly supplied, and in a few minutes, except that there were no soldiers sent for, there was as strong a force as would have destroyed "Chuny" himself. The dog-fancier, however, desired that previous to the destroying of the dog, he might be permitted to go down, and pay him a visit in the yard, and have some conversation with him to ascertain exactly the state of his mind, "because" said he, "if I can only get at him to bleed him in the mouth, perhaps the fit may go off:" there was a general exclamation of horror at the idea of the man attempting to bleed a mad dog in the mouth, particularly so powerful a dog as this; and Mr. Lloyd strongly remonstrated with the man against his making any such rash attempt. The man was, however, determined to enter the yard at all hazard, and said "Only give me a broomstick and a rope, and I will manage him." Mr. Lloyd said that if the man was determined thus to risk his life, it was entirely against his wish and without his concurrence, and again endeavoured to dissuade the man from his perilous attempt but in vain, for the broomstick and the rope being produced the man, nothing daunted, jumped with them into the yard. Just at this time the dog, in some degree exhausted from his violent exertions of above an hour, had crouched into his kennel, and no part of him was to he seen but his head, covered with foam and the firy flashes of his eyes; the dog-fancier approached him cautiously, calling him by his name, holding the broomstick horizontally in one hand, and the rope with a noose on it in the other, but the dog took no notice of him; the man whistled and addressed a great deal of dog language to him, but in vain, the animal heeded him not; at length the man having got close to the kennel door, he seized the chain which hung from the dog's neck, and in an instant most dexterously slipped the noose of the rope over his head. Though the animal growled and barked most furiously during all this time, he never attempted to spring at the man until the latter drew him by the rope from the kennel by main force; the dog, now freed from the kennel, instantly flew at the man, who still held the rope in one hand, and the stick in the other. On his approach, open-mouthed, the man presented the stick to him, in the horizontal position, which the dog seized, and tore with his teeth until he forced it from the man's grasp; this done, he again attacked the man who now seized the chain holding thus, the rope in one hand, and the chain in the other, both secured round the animal's neck; he flew several times at the man's throat, but the latter checked him by pulling him aside, either to the right with the rope, or to the left with the chain. The contest now raged for a considerable time, until at length the man became much exhausted, while the dog seemed to have acquired fresh fury and strength; and fearing the consequences of protracting the struggle, he called out for help at a moment when the dog, who, on his hind legs, stood as high as the man, was making a desperate effort to grasp his throat. The assembled crowd now alarmed more than ever for the man's safety, called out to shoot the dog, never recollecting that to shoot the dog at that time was also, in all probability, to shoot the man. In an instant some two dozen gun-barrels were presented until the man called out not to fire, no doubt preferring his chance of escape from the dog, to that of surviving a discharge of musketry, and fortunately he called out in time, for no shot was fired. The man still struggling with the enraged animal, called out, for God's sake, that some men should enter the yard and kill the dog with clubs. This hint was instantly acted upon; several sprung into the yard, armed with iron bars, sticks, etc, and the dog's head was in a moment beaten in pieces, almost in the arms of the man who thus escaped this most extraordinary contest, without receiving the slightest scratch. The animal thus destroyed was by the directions of Mr. Lloyd, tied by the hind legs, through which a stick was passed, and in this manner carried on the shoulders of two men the same night and flung into the Thames.