On this day across the bay in Superior in 1914, an unnamed bulldog “of the Irish variety” with a snootful of beer terrified residents on Tower Avenue, who assumed the foam dripping from the obviously affected dog indicated rabies. The next day Duluth News Tribune headlines rang out: “Fido Drinks Beer; Foam Clings to His Nozzle as He Capers on Tower Avenue; mad Dog Scare Puts Citizens to the bad.” The paper reported the dog had left a barroom (also unnamed) at the lower end of Tower Avenue around 6:30 p.m. The News Tribune speculating whether “Fido” left the bar because he “remembered Mrs. Fido and that he had promised to be home to supper early.” The piece described an encounter “Fido” had with an “exceedingly rotund” individual at the corner of Tower and Broadway. As the two tried to get out of each others’ way, “the two did a very pleasing little combination pin wheel and flip-flop act together.” “In the end,” the paper reported, “everyone connected to the affair was mad except the dog. At no time during the performance was he mad. Instead he was happy, supremely, inanely, maudlin happy.” We don’t know if the reporter was serious or making a racial remark describing its breed or an actual Irish Bulldog, but we do know cocktail enthusiasts call a mix of vodka, half-and-half, Irish cream, and Coca-Cola an “Irish Bulldog” and highly doubt this incident inspired the recipe.