It's no mystery that dogs earned the moniker of “Man's Best Friend” due to their longstanding service to mankind. But should you need an explanation beyond this, I present you with an abridged history: here are selected tales of some of the most awesome dogs that ever existed.
St. Guinefort, Miracle Dog
According to legend, Guinefort was a French greyhound wrongfully slain by his master, a knight from Lyon. The knight returned home one day to find his son missing and Guinefort's muzzle smeared with blood. Assuming that Guinefort had eaten his child, the knight killed Guinefort only later to discover his son alive and well under a basket, next to the body of a dead serpent. The knight then realized that Guinefort had saved his son's life, so he buried the dog and erected a shrine in his honor. Let this be a lesson to all readers: check your baskets before you murder your pets.
Scholars have noted similarities between the story of Guinefort and that of the mythological Welsh dog, Gelert, so it's probable that someone simply appropriated the story. Nonetheless, thirteenth-century French peasants attributed healing miracles to the deceased dog (apparently, Guinefort didn't hold a grudge about the whole murder thing), venerating the greyhound as a protector of infants. Although the Catholic Church never recognized Guinefort as a saint, the dog maintained a following well into modern times.
Via: weirdweeklywiki.blogspot.com
Pompey, Royal Protector
Prince William I of Orange, commonly known as William the Silent, spent much of his life embroiled in sixteenth-century religious politics and consequently, evading assassination attempts. Let's face it: if you're going to complain about the Holy Roman Empire persecuting Protestants and lead the Dutch revolt against the King of Spain, you're going to make some enemies in the process.
Luckily for William, he owned a pug named Pompey. During a campaign against Phillip II of Spain, assassins closed in on William's campsite. William must have been a heavy sleeper, because Pompey purportedly barked and scratched for a while before he alerted William to the assassins by jumping on his master's face. Thanks to Pompey's quick thinking, William lived until 1584, when he was assassinated by Balthasar Gérard. Pompey must have been out that evening.
William was interred at Delft; his mausoleum includes a likeness of Pompey curled up at his feet. Afterwards, pugs became associated with the House of Orange. Oh, and carrots too, because pugs and carrots just scream "Dutch," don't they?
Source: hab3045
Barry der Menschenretter
Barry der Menschenretter, better known as just "Barry" to his friends, was a search and rescue dog at the Great St. Bernard Hospice in Switzerland. I'm going to go ahead and state the obvious here: the dogs the St. Bernard Hospice bred for search and rescue circa 1800 were the predecessors of modern St. Bernards. Feel free to blame the hospice for excessive slobbering. Remember that tired gag in the old cartoons where a St. Bernard rescues the main character and then everyone gets drunk off the dog's little barrel of brandy? You can blame that on the Great St. Bernard Hospice too. (The monks who run the place deny the whole barrel thing, but I'm blaming them anyway.)
Anyway, Barry excelled at both searching and rescuing. In a career that spanned twelve years, he saved more than forty people lost and freezing to death in the Pennine Alps. Barry was allowed to retire from service in 1812, and possibly spent the remaining two years of his life keeping his little barrel of brandy for himself. His body was preserved and is currently on display at the Natural History Museum in Bern, Switzerland. They still make him carry the barrel around his neck.
Source: curiousexpeditions / via: andrewhopkinsart.blogspot.com
Seaman, Transcontinental Journeyer
Seaman, a Newfoundland dog, bears the distinction of being the only animal to complete Lewis and Clark's journey. This is impressive for two reasons. First, the historic trip was a long one. It's safe to say that no dog had attempted journeying from the Atlantic to the Pacific by land before. Second, and likely by virtue of being Merriwether Lewis's pet, Seaman managed to escape the fate of most dogs that started the trip; to survive in the wilderness, the Corps of Discovery consumed 263 dogs as they traveled westward. This, by the way, is why modern dogs are grateful for fast food chains at truck stops.
In general, Seaman seems to have received special attention from Lewis and Clark. After a rogue beaver severed Seaman's artery, the two stopped to perform surgery on the dog. On the way home, Seaman was kidnapped by Native Americans, but Lewis organized a rescue mission. Also, Lewis named a tributary of the Blackfoot River "Seaman's Creek," but some (obviously dog-hating) person has since renamed it.
Merriwether Lewis paid a whopping twenty dollars for Seaman in 1803; I suspect he thought it was a good investment.
Source: gharness
