100 Dogs Who Changed Civilization (19 page)

The ancient way station at Saint Bernard continues to honor its most famous guardian's memory by always keeping one dog in the kennel named Barry. And the more “exciting” version of Barry's death—that he was killed by a man he wanted to rescue—refuses to be laid to rest.

During the American Civil War, a brown-and-white bull terrier named Jack served as mascot for the 102nd Pennsylvania Infantry. The faithful dog followed his unit through many bloody battles, including Spotsylvania and the siege of Petersburg. His human comrades in arms claimed that Jack only obeyed commands from men in his particular unit and could understand the different bugle calls used to rally the troops. During engagements Jack selflessly exposed himself to enemy fire, and after battles he would track down his regiment's injured and wounded and summon help.

He may have exposed himself a bit too much to enemy guns. He was seriously wounded during one battle and barely escaped death, and Confederate soldiers twice captured him. Incredibly, when he was taken the second
time, his Union companions offered to exchange a human prisoner to get him back. The opposition agreed to the deal, and a Confederate infantryman was duly traded for the dog. To honor his achievements, the men of the 102nd gave Jack a silver collar to wear, but shortly thereafter he vanished. His heartbroken soldier friends assumed he was probably stolen, right along with his flashy new neckpiece.

All dogs deserve rewards for good behavior. But when their conduct is truly exemplary—and their grateful owners are really, really wealthy—the payoff may be far more substantial than a Milk Bone or a pat on the head.

Consider the rags-to-riches story of Flossie, a Labrador retriever mixed breed who spent her early years as a stray, roaming the streets of Pasadena, California. Then one fortuitous day, she ran into actress Drew Barrymore. Barrymore fell in love with the gigantic yellow mutt and took her to live with her in her Beverly Hills home.

But what began as a Cinderella story soon turned into an adventure tale. On the night of February 18, 2001, Barrymore and her then-fiancé Tom Green were awakened at 3
A.M
. as Flossie made a huge racket outside their master suite. She “literally banged on their bedroom door,” the couple's spokesperson told the Associated Press. “Flossie was really the main alert that there was a fire.”

The inferno took sixty Los Angeles Fire Department firefighters more than an hour to extinguish. It consumed Barrymore's 3,500-square-foot (325 sq m) abode, causing about $700,000 in damage. But things could have been much worse. If Flossie
hadn't switched into “Lassie mode” and saved the day, the home's human occupants might not have awakened in time to escape. Thanks to their four-legged smoke alarm, Barrymore and Green got out, as did Flossie and the couple's two other dogs. “We're great,” Barrymore told reporters at the scene.

“Other than the fact that the home burned down,” Green added.

Flossie got her reward about two years later, after the fire-gutted house was restored to its former grandeur. Barrymore decided to show her appreciation for her furry friend and personal savior by giving the canine legal title to the newly renovated, $3-million domicile. “Drew and Tom love that dog more than anything in the world,” a family friend told the Associated Press. “They want to know she'll always have a roof over her head.” Along with indoor plumbing, central heating, and a wait staff, of course.

In theory, canines are the mortal enemies of cats. But the true nature of their relationship is far more complicated. While the typical beagle or Jack Russell terrier may enjoy pursuing a hapless feline around its front yard, not all dogs see cats as annoyances or opponents to bully. Some actually see them as friends.

The most famous of these canine cat lovers was a mixed-breed dog from New York named Ginny. Called by some the “Mother Teresa of cats,” she saved roughly nine hundred of them from death, disease, and starvation during her seventeen-year life.

Her story began when she was adopted from a Long Beach, New York, shelter by construction worker Philip Gonzalez. Though he originally wanted to get a Doberman pinscher, the shaggy, decidedly odd-looking schnauzer/Siberian husky cross caught his eye—and won his heart. As it turned out, Ginny's looks weren't the only thing unusual about her. She loved cats, and cats loved her, too. She adored them so much that she started seeking out felines in distress. “I didn't train her,” Gonzalez told the Associated Press. “Ginny was just magical in a way.… She just had this knack of knowing when a cat was in trouble.”

During one of her first rescues, Ginny found five kittens trapped in a pipe at a construction site. She came to the aid of cats in Dumpsters, alleyways, and abandoned cars. Once she even found a kitten at the bottom of a box of broken glass. Gonzalez was soon caring (and paying) for an endless procession of foundling felines. But Ginny helped with finances, too—she served as the inspiration for two best-selling books,
The Dog Who Rescues Cats
and
The Blessing of the Animals
.

Ginny pursued her unique calling until her death on August 25, 2005. After her passing she was eulogized at the prestigious Westchester Cat Show—the same show that had awarded her with an unprecedented honor in 1998, when the dog who loved felines was named Cat of the Year.