It has been held that the docking of the tail generation after generation resulted in pups being born tailless. Now, although such a result might follow if the practice were continued long enough, yet to attribute the cause to constant mutilation of the parents seems controverted by the fact that the Bob-tailed Sheepdog has other clearly marked features in common, which breeding from the promiscuous herd of dogs docked to save a tax would have dissipated rather than insured.

There are some people who go so far as to say such a mutilation as a docked tail represents can never become an inherited character. The subject is admittedly a difficult one. "Carrier " (a gentleman who wrote for many years over that nom de plume in the Field and other papers) says it is impossible for any one who has read Darwin to believe that a mutilation can become inherited. On the contrary, it seems that evolution teaches that a disused member changes form, and may be eventually dispensed with. It is puzzling, to say the least, to account for Fox-terrier puppies having been whelped with stump tails. So many instances of this during the last twenty years have been recorded, that it is difficult to believe such cases purely accidental, and influenced by no law of heredity.

On the point of time required to influence such change, we must not forget we may go far beyond the usual argument that docking was a result of the tax in this country on undocked dogs, for, so far into the past as the history of dogs clearly carries us, docking was practised by shepherds, as vouched for by Columella. The true reason for the practice of docking is to be found in the general superstition, which for two thousand years has prevailed among dog-owners, that the operation was a preventive of madness. This idea pervaded the minds of shepherds and others in all lands ; and if we grant that mutilation may result in establishing reproduction of a variety minus the particular member, the history of docking shows a long period of time in which to produce the effect.

As a justification for docking, it has been argued that the shortening of the tail strengthens the back, but there is no proof of the statement ever forthcoming; and the same may be said of the equally unsupported opinion that the absence of the tail increases the speed of the dog. One thing in connection with docking should never be forgotten, if but in the interests of humanity, and that is to get the operation performed as early as possible. Since Fashion has ordained that but the merest stump shall be allowed, it is the height of folly and of cruelty to wait until a puppy is a few weeks old before removing the portion of the tail that is considered necessary.

It is always interesting and frequently instructive to be able to compare a breed as we know it to-day with what it was, say, half a century previous. Richardson wrote in praise of the Bob-tailed Sheepdog rather more than fifty years ago. Comparing it with the Collie, he says that it is "larger and stronger, and has much the appearance of a cross with the great rough Water-dog. It is coarser in the muzzle and coat, and is destitute of tail." Further, he says, with reference to the latter, that it "is not the natural form of the animal, for the tail is destroyed when very young, not by cutting off, but by extracting the bones - an inhuman practice technically called ' stringing,' generally performed by pulling out that part with the teeth. After this the fleshy part of the tail contracts to a mere tubercle, and is wholly concealed among the shaggy hair of the animal. Dogs treated in this manner are said to endure much more exertion with less fatigue than those in which the tail is entire."

Old English Sheepdogs have been called Curs, and some writers on the subject derive the appellation from "curtail." The etymology of the word is, however, entirely against that. The term Cur has come to be applied to a crossbred, useless, or degenerate dog, but that is far from the original meaning. In the old Welsh laws we find distinct mention of three kinds of Cur dogs - the Mastiff, the House Cur, and the Shepherd's Cur. Now, the House Cur was, in the eye of the Welsh law, exalted to the name and dignity of Shepherd's Cur when it was proved he could perform the duties of the Sheepdog. The term Cur has no more reference to a docked dog than any other, and even curtail has nothing to do with tail, but is, says Skeat, a corruption of the older form curtal (verb, to dock); whilst Cur, Old English Curre, is from the Swedish Kurre, a dog; Old Dutch Korre, a house dog; named from growling, and derived from the Icelandic Kurra, to murmur, grumble. The English Sheepdog, therefore, may be a curtal-dog without being a Cur in the sense of a degenerate dog, yet a Cur in the higher sense of the useful, shepherd's Cur of the old Welsh laws.

With regard to the character of the English Sheepdog, both old and modern writers differ greatly. Vero Shaw says: "The disposition of several rough Bobtail Sheepdogs we have met with has differed considerably from that of the Collie, being mild and affectionate."

Meyrick says: "The English Sheepdog does not possess the fidelity and sagacity of the Collie, but he is a teachable and intelligent animal. .. In temper he is treacherous and savage, but not by any means courageous."

"Idstone" describes the dog as "surly," "slower and heavier than the Collie, and not so sprightly, nor, on the whole, so sagacious." Yet, in the same article, he says " the feats he performs are the result of his own marvellous sagacity." Then, according to "Idstone," the sagacity of the Collie is more than marvellous; or perhaps " Idstone " meant that whilst the mother-wit of the English Sheepdog was wonderful, the gumption of the Collie was incredible ; or perhaps "Idstone " did not very closely consider the question in correcting his proofs.

Youatt, writing of the disposition of the Sheepdog, says : "If he be but with his master, he lies content, indifferent to every surrounding object, seemingly half asleep and half awake, rarely mingling with his kind, rarely courting, and generally shrinking from, the notice of a stranger; but the moment duty calls, his sleepy, listless eye becomes brightened, he eagerly gazes on his master, inquires and comprehends all he is to do, and, springing up, gives himself to the discharge of his duty with a sagacity, fidelity, and devotion too rarely equalled even by man himself."