GREYFRIARS BOBBY and OTHER TALES

       A Faithful Dog and Other Tales

In the Edinburgh Castle bookstore I bought a book about this wonderful dog for my grandchildren. From the castle we walked down the Royal Mile as we both wanted to give the little bronze dog a pat of good luck.

On our city tour the local docent told us, “The statue of a little dog is one of the most photographed statues in the city. The little Skye Terrier was the dog of an Edinburgh policeman known as a bobby. For five years he accompanied his master all over the city on his rounds. Then the policeman died. The gates to the cemetery proclaimed NO DOGS, and the gates were shut the day of the funeral before the little dog could get through them.

“Each day after the one o’clock cannon firing at the castle the little dog walked to the coffeehouse his master often frequented. He continued to be  given a few scrapes to eat. Then he would return to the cemetery where he went to guard his master’s grave. After the first day when the cemetery caretaker saw him he realized the dog was Greyfriars Bobby and ignored the no dogs rule. Every day after that for ten years the little dog would repeat this routine. Often on very cold winter nights a caring person would give him shelter in their home. When the little dog died thirteen years later, an exception was made to allow him to be buried beside his master.”

We stopped to admire the policeman’s faithful friend and of course took advantage of the photo op.

Continuing our walk we window shopped, listened to pipers, and watched mimes. When we reached the Deacon Brodie Pub we stepped inside to admire the lovely ceiling. Brodie, the son of a cabinetmaker, was born on Brodie Close.  The wealthy pious citizen was elected to Deacon Counselor in 1781, but at night he was a gambler and thief.  When working he carried a wax plug in his pocket and pressed impressions of client’s keys into it. Then when he knew the residents were not home, he used a newly made key to enter their home to steal jewelry and money. Eventually he was caught and hanged at St. Giles in 1788. In a twist of fate he was hung by a gallows, which he had improved upon. Both his birthplace and death place are close to the tavern named for him.

One afternoon as a break from sight-seeing we rode a local bus out to the zoo. Unexpectantly we entered the zoo a couple minutes before a penguin parade was to start. We joined the crowd to watch as several attendants walked between the spectators and the penguins. Many little penguins strutted around in orderly fashion just as if they knew they were on display. It was a sweet bonus to the end of a busy day.