The Wikipedia entry for rabies notes that “virtually every infection with rabies resulted in death, until Louise Pasteur and Emile Roux developed the first rabies vaccination in 1885. This vaccine was first used on a human on July 6, 1885 – 9-year-old boy Joseph Meister (1876–1940) had been mauled by a rabid dog.”

Widespread use of the vaccine would be a gradual process, somewhat impacted by the general fear of receiving injections of viral material. In an online review of author Arthur Allen’s book "Vaccine," reviewer Melissa A. Barton notes that “vaccines didn’t gain much public support in the United States until World War I and particularly World War II, when a mass immunization program against common battlefield killers” was implemented.

For that reason, it is not surprising to find in early Millburn newspapers and police blotters countless references to shooting dogs that were found roaming through the township or had bitten someone or something. An undated article about one poor local—and determined—dog is in a scrapbook of late-1800s newspaper clippings in the collection of the Millburn-Short Hills Historical Society, as is the 1968 Millburn dog tag seen in the photo accompanying this story.

“DOG DINES ON PEW CUSHIONS; Hunger Responsible for the Canine’s Sacriligious (sic) Performances -- A small mongrel dog, which went to church at White Oak Ridge, Millburn Township, on Sunday, September 10, was compelled by circumstances—and the janitor—to remain in the church a week, and during that time it became so hungry that the pew cushions and carpet had to appease its appetite.

The result was that when the janitor opened the chapel last Sunday he found sundry bunches of cloth and carpet scattered around the aisles and pews. Incidentally a yellow dog was glad to get his freedom again, and with a glad bark ran between the janitor’s legs out into the street. Incidentally, also Joseph Briggs, a member of the church, has paid $36 to the trustees for the dog’s meals of pew cushions and carpet.

Mr. Briggs is a regular churchgoer. He has a number of dogs, none of which is so fond of him as Bouncer. When Mr. Briggs started for church on Sunday night, September 10, Bouncer followed along, though his master shouted “Go home!” at him at almost every twenty steps.

Bouncer’s religious instincts prevailed and during the first prayer he sneaked under the pew in which his master sat. The first that Mr. Briggs knew of the dog’s presence was when Bouncer began to lick the blacking off his shoes.

Then Mr. Briggs kicked the dog, but Bouncer was not indecorous enough to utter a yelp. His owner thought the dog left the church, but he had not, and slept through the sermon, though the preacher didn’t know it.

Through the benediction, also, Bouncer slept, and his nap continued even when the congregation left the chapel. Perhaps he was dreaming of three hambones a day and a bed of straw ten feet thick, but whatever it was his sleep was sound and undisturbed until someone, passing the church about 10 o’clock, heard a bark which seemed to come from within the chapel.

For a week these strange barks were heard by people who lived near the chapel, and they either could not account for them, or did not try.

Meanwhile Bouncer became hungry, and as his dream of ham bones was not true, he turned reluctantly to the cushion of Mr. Biggs’s pew. It was better than nothing and Bouncer succeeded in stomaching a good part of the cushion.

Dogs, as a rule, are carnivorous. Bouncer has exploded that theory, for he continued to chew the cushion until it was gone and after that the carpet and the matting. For desert he took a large bite out of a map of Palestine and then descended on the map of Judea. For breakfast the next day he gnawed a window sill.

When the janitor came up the steps of the chapel last Sunday morning he heard a scampering of feet and a weak yelp of joy. Bouncer had eaten but he had not fared well, and his ribs were like a washboard.

The moment the janitor opened the door wide enough for him to get out a yellow streak flashed down the street and sped toward Mr. Biggs’s house.

Then the trustees of the chapel had to take recognizance of the affair. The janitor had recognized Bouncer as Mr. Biggs’s dog and his owner was sent a bill which read something like this:

'Week’s board for one dog, $36.'

Mr. Briggs paid it. Bouncer is well now and in his kennel.”

Members of the Millburn-Short Hills Historical Society write a weekly column highlighting items in the collection, which can be seen at the museum located at the Short Hills Train Station.