Though he was born on April Fools day in 1937 “Just Nuisance,” was no joke.
The Great Dane grew to be 6 feet 6 inches tall on his hind legs and was respected by his fellow sailors not just because of his height, but also because he was the only dog ever to be officially enlisted by the Royal Navy, the United Kingdom’s naval warfare force.
The commission came about when his owner, Benjamin Chaney, was relocated to the naval base in Simon’s Town to run the United Services Institute where Royal Navy ships were often docked. Allowed to run around at will when he was old enough to know better, the Dane often followed sailors on board the ship where he loved to lounge on the deck, and especially at the top of the gangplank. Stepping over a lumbering hulk of a dog made it difficult for sailors to get by him leading to his nickname, “Nuisance.” 
When Sailors on leave hopped a train to Cape Town, some twenty two miles away, sure enough, Nuisance joined them. Ever try to hide a Great Dane?
When caught, the dog was taken off at the next stop, even when individuals offered to pay his way. Nuisance would simply catch the next train to join his mates. Eventually, his owner was given notice that if the dog didn’t didn’t stop getting on the train, he’d be put down. One way to solve the problem was for the dog to join the navy. Seriously. Being enlisted in the Royal Navy would entitle Nuisance to ride the trains for free.
Nuisance underwent a physical, and signed his enlistment papers with a paw print. His last name was listed as “Nuisance,” but when it came time to list a Christian name, no one knew what to say. One of the sailors suggested that they leave out the Christian name and list the dog’s name as just Nuisance – and this is how the dog became “Just Nuisance.” His occupation was written in as “Bonecrusher,” his religion listed as “Canine Divinity League, an anti-vivisection group, and on August 25, 1939, he came Seaman Just Nuisance. His name, rank and serial number were etched into his collar, and he was given a regulation seaman’s cap with a strap under the chin to ensure that it stayed on. Not long after his enlistment, Nuisance was given a promotion: He was now Able Seaman, and that meant that he was entitled to rations (which he took with the other sailors), got his own bed, and billeted in Hut Number One where he was often found stretched out with his head on his pillow, sound asleep.
Sailors in the past have been known to have a fight or two, and Nuisance was no different. His conduct sheet recorded fights with the mascots from the HMS Redoubt and the HMS Shropshire (which ended badly for the other mascots), as well as resisting ejection from the Sailors’ & Soldiers’ home (no punishment meted out), traveling on the train without his pass (for which he was confined to the banks of Froggy Pond, Lily Pool with all lamp posts removed), losing his collar, and sleeping in someone else’s bed in the Petty Officers’ dormitory (this punishment saw Nuisance deprived of bones for a week!)
All in all, however, Nuisance was a good sailor. He always appeared on parade wearing his cap, and though he never went to sea, he did join in an air reconnaissance off the South African coast in the search for enemy submarines (which was utterly against regulations). He attended fund raisers and celebrations as a local celebrity, and if unable to attend, a formal letter of apology was always sent. To the admirer who wrote to Nuisance thinking that he was a sheepdog, Nuisance replied, “‘I’m not a sheepdog, and nor do I like sheep, except as mutton.”
Sadly, a car accident lead to health problems, and Nuisance was discharged from the Navy in January 1944. His condition worsened and on his 7th birthday, he was put to sleep. His body was covered with a Royal Naval flag the next day, and Able Seaman Just Nuisance was buried with full military honors at Klaver Camp at the top of Red Hill. A bronze statue of Nuisance still overlooks Simon’s Town and the harbor.
Image found on Pinterest and happily credited upon receipt of information.