Montmorency is a dog, the fox terrier who goes along with the three men on their journey along the Thames River in England. At the end of the first chapter, as the group is voting on where they will go for a vacation, the narrator J. imagines in his storytelling that Montmorency casts his own vote, too. The trip doesn’t appeal to the dog because he won’t have anything to do unless and until the boat goes ashore. The men consider that they could sit back and smoke as the scenery goes by. By contrast, J. surmises:
He never did care for the river, did Montmorency. “It’s all very well for you fellows,” he says; “you like it, but I don’t. There’s nothing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I don’t smoke. If I see a rat, you won’t stop; and if I go to sleep, you get fooling about with the boat, and slop me overboard. If you ask me, I call the whole thing bally foolishness.” We were three to one, however, and the motion was carried.
It’s true enough. A dog wouldn’t be as interested in a slow boat ride along a river as a person would be. He could be bored out of his fur.
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