Run like the wind, Mr. Butterscotch! Your cute goggles will not save you.

Brooklyn was completely insane in 1896, what with old guys going dog-hunting with double-barrel shotguns in the middle of the night. That was the scenario laid out in the June 26, 1896 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Stray dogs disturbed the peace and a geezer picked up his weapon. You know the article was from long ago because it refers to Flatbush as “the suburbs.” The piece in full:

“Residents of the southeastern section of Flatbush are up in arms against a pack of hungry, homeless dogs, which nightly turn that peaceful neighborhood into bedlam. These starving brutes invade private lawns, prowl around chicken houses, chase cats, fight with each other over a stray bone and howl at the moon until their hair raising concert awakes the soundest sleeper.

With that patience which is characteristic of the Flatbush resident, the unwilling auditors of these serenades for a whole week put cotton in their ears and walked the floor with the babies before they decided to stand on their rights as citizens and taxpayers.

The initiative was taken by John J. Snyder, who is about 70 years old and lives in a handsome house on East Twenty-first street, near Avenue C. Though he is a hale and hearty man for his age, he is unable to do without sleep. In the dead of the night he was forced to rise from his bed and throw things through the window. Mr. Snyder owns an excellent shotgun and in the wee, small hours of yesterday morning, when the savage concert was at its height, he decided to use it.

Your demise shall be my greatest triumph, Butterscotch.

Unfortunately all his shells were loaded with fine shot, so there was small hope of doing fatal work. Armed with his trusty weapon Mr Snyder descended to the porch. The pack was in the rear of the house in full cry. Mr. Snyder stole around his house with a step as light as that of an Indian. Suddenly two shots rang out in the night. For a moment all was still and then the dogs set up a howl that made cold shivers run down the backs of Mr. Snyder’s neighbors. When morning came the yard was empty of the living and the dead.

Among those who have suffered from the riotous dog concerts are ex-City Auditor Anton Weber, ex-County Clerk William J. Kaiser, William H. Dreyer, John Dreyer and Mr. Van Kuren. All have now laid in a stock of ammunition and when the dogs appear again there will be deadly battle.”