Lion Dog

Many centuries ago, runs a Chinese legend, a lion wandering through a forest spied a monkey and fell in love with her. Despairing at the discrepancy in their sizes, he prayed his lord & protector Buddha that he might be dwarfed. Buddha answered the plea of the lion, who promptly married his monkey-love. . . . One result of that storied union was to be seen last week in Manhattan's Roosevelt Hotel.

At the annual show of the Pekingese Club of America the little dogs which peered out from wicker or glass cases strikingly resembled their fabled ancestors. There were the tawny coats, the pendulous ears, the wide chest and narrow hips of the lion. No imagination strain was needed to detect a simian likeness in their bright, popping eyes and bashed-in noses.

Led out on the judging platform, the Pekes waddled briskly about on their stubby, bowed legs. To Pierrot of Hartle-bury, freshly brought from England by Mrs. Richard S. Quigley of Lock Haven, Pa., went the prize for best in show, which included the gigantic Lasca McClure Halley Trophy and the Challenge Cup donated by the late, great J. Pierpont Morgan.

Fierce old Tzu Hsi, crafty, foreigner-hating Dowager Empress, used to say that this Lion Dog of China knew regal splendor when Europeans were "still swinging from the trees by their tails." Fanciers now generally agree that the dog probably took on its present aspect in the 7th Century A. D., but Chinese tradition holds that it was the pet of Emperors 4,000 years ago. Ancient carvings, pictures and effigies of a grotesque animal resembling the Pekingese seem to substantiate this belief.

The Lion Dog got its real start in the First Century A. D. when missionaries from India converted the Emperor Ming Ti to Buddhism. Chief symbol of that religion was the lion because, as India's most dreaded beast, it represented all the human passions and powers of darkness which the Lord Buddha had subdued. Tamed, the lion became his faithful servant and companion, was usually pictured by his side. But China had no lions and most Chinese had never seen one. At last some sharp-eyed follower of the Emperor noticed how strikingly the Court's tawny little dogs resembled Buddha's lion. Eunuchs thenceforth strove to breed lion-like characteristics into the dog. In time it progressed from being an imitation lion, became itself a sacred symbol.

The penalty for removal of a Lion Dog from within the walls of the Forbidden City, was the "Death by 10,000 Slices" or some other ingenious execution. The dog, regarded with religious awe by Chinese masses, was as much a mystery to them as to foreigners. The Emperor's dogs were his constant companions. They rode before him in the saddle, lay beside him on the couch, sat with him on the throne. To him the association attested his own divine nature. On his favorite beasts he bestowed titles of duke and prince, regal incomes, princely retinues. Puppies were suckled by waiting-women whose own girl babies had been conveniently drowned.

In 1860 European troops captured Peking from which the Court had fled, sacked the nearby Summer Palace. French and British officers burst into one of its rooms, found a self-slain Princess surrounded by five of her faithful little Lion Dogs. These were sent back to England, where one, "Lootie," became the pet of Queen Victoria. An occasional animal smuggled from the Peking Palace kept the English stock from degeneration through inbreeding. The year 1912 in China saw the end of divine sovereignty for Emperors and dogs. Thereafter fresh specimens of the dog were imported more freely to add to the growing stock in England and the U. S.

Still largely a pet of the rich, the Pekingese is regarded by most nonowners as a snobbish, fragile toy. But its fanciers claim for it intelligence, warmheartedness, loyalty and all the courage of that far-off, amorous lion.

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