When we first came across the photograph at the left, we assumed it was the image of a late 19th century gent with his dogs, and not much more. Boy, were we wrong.

It turns out that these dogs were “Professor Duncan’s Marvelous Collie Dogs,” billed as Duncan’s Royal Scotch Collies.  In the late 19th century leading into the early 1900’s, Professor Duncan’s dogs entertained the people of London, and, in fact, topped the bill of the Pavilion during the first week of 1915. They were described as the “acme of animal training,” having appeared ‘before their Majesties by Royal Command! We’ll let a review of the time describe the act:

“Of all the numerous so-called dog shows which have been brought before the music-hall public lately, none have impressed us so favourably as that given by Professor Duncan and his collie dogs. The Alhambra audiences have for weeks past literally screamed with delight at the really wonderful deeds of these canine prodigies. There is one feature in particular which recommends the performance to every lover of dogs, and lies in the fact that Professor Duncan take the dogs through the whole of their performance without the use of a whip or stick of any kind, but (and there’s his secret) there is always a morsel of dog mean and a caress for the dog who has successfully accomplished his task. The photographs given here were especially taken for The Picture Magazine… [In one] we have a representation of the “London Canine Fire Brigade.” The story is this: An outbreak of fire is announced, and the brigade start with their engine. They arrive on the scene of the disaster and a ladder is put up to one of the windows. A child is known to be asleep in the upper room. For one of the dogs to climb the latter, fetch the baby and lay it down in safety, is the work of a minute, but, alas! The exertion has been too great, the dog is exhausted and drops dead by the side of the saved child. A stretcher is brought and the dog is placed on it, when, lo! there comes his poor widow … There is a pretty story told by Mr. Duncan regarding this part of the performance, and which actually suggested it. It appears that Mr. and Mrs. Duncan were in their sitting-room one evening, when suddenly an unusual noise was heard, and before inquiries could be made, in came Duke …, carrying the three-month-old baby, whose clothes had caught fire at a stove in the room above…” – The Picture Magazine, London, November 1895