Monthly Archives: May 2014

  In May 1873, Godey’s Lady’s Book, the most famous women’s magazine in nineteenth century America, published instructions on how to make this crocheted coat for a small dog.  The fashion victim illustrated in the wood engraving of the result of this home craft project is an Italian greyhound, who would certainly have needed a coat like this in an unevenly heated American house. As I recall, the pattern calls for red and blue wool yarn.  The coat also had small bells for buttons, so the dog would jingle as he trotted along.  Collars for small house dogs often had bells, too.

I thought about other household animals that had to wear bells.  By the late nineteenth century, house cats sometimes had belled collars to neutralize their effectiveness as hunters.  This may have been associated with increased public interest in song bird protection.  Horses sometimes had belled harnesses; I own a set of bells on a thick leather strap with buckles that belonged to my great-grandfather’s family.  It was used when they hitched the horse to a sleigh in winter — just like the song “Jingle Bells.”

But back to our Italian greyhound with his elaborate coat.  While having a jingling animal may not appeal to modern pet owners, I think that Victorian dog lovers would have found this a cheerful sound.  Remember that the world was a lot quieter than it is today!

   On September 21, 1908, Rich Chatterton sent Miss Gladys Rogers of Baker City, Oregon, a postcard urging her to “pack your suitcase” and come for a visit.  The message on the back of the card doesn’t even mention the extraordinary studio photograph on its front.

Dressed in a suit, bowler hat, bow tie and polished shoes, Rich looks down at Ted, who I think we can assume is his dog. Their names are written in pen at the bottom of the card. Sitting on a straight-backed chair, Ted looks straight into the camera, clutching a pipe in his jaws and wearing a fez that seems to have been improvised out of a can decked with a feather.  Rich has a pipe in his left hand, too.  I guess this is intended to be a picture of two pals enjoying a smoke….  I gave a talk last night in Maryland where found myself discussing the humor associated with pet keeping at some length.  Pet keeping is often a form of play.

Now that we’re entering flea season, it’s a good time to discuss what pet owners in the past did about these pests.  First, I have to stipulate that almost all people – poor or prosperous, city dweller or farmer — experienced the discomfort of insect bites, including kinds that we find horribly embarrassing today.  Housekeepers battled bedbugs that were carried home from travel; mosquitoes and biting flies that took advantage of unscreened windows; head lice; mites from backyard chicken flocks; and the fleas that every fur-covered animal suffered with during the warm months.

This uncomfortable reality meant that folks were likely to try to limit their exposure to fleas by housing pet animals outdoors during the warm months (although there is plenty of evidence that they still found their way indoors then, too).  Without modern flea-killing chemicals, conscientious housekeeping and hygiene was the first line of defense.  Bathing and flea-combing (through the hair of both pets and people) were the most common methods of killing the pests.  Fine toothed combs, which are still available in pet stores today, help owners lift fleas from the animal’s skin, to be crushed or drowned in a cup of soapy water.  Bathing animals with household lye soaps killed fleas but dried out and even burned the skin of dogs and cats.

This trade card advertises an important innovation in treating fleas on pets.  By the 1870s, a new type of soap was marked for medicinal use on both people and animals.  Carbolic soap, which contained phenyl derived from coal tar, was excellent for killing fleas; it also helped to treat other kinds of itches such as follicular mange.  In the picture a group of willing pets await their baths.  One dog is even begging for his turn in the suds.  No one in my household behaves like this at bath time, but the point was to suggest that carbolic soap offered welcome relief.