The Velo-Dog Revolver
Counter Rover Defense
Dogs were bred from their lupinus progenitors to be sentinels. Where the previous wolves were natural predators who shed blood as the spirit-led, domesticated versions kept watch over things. They were the automated security systems of the ancient world. No matter if they were chihuahuas or St. Bernards, such behaviors are hardwired into their DNA. This makes dogs fiercely territorial.
Compared to your typical bear, moose, badger, or skunk, we humans are fairly helpless. Our soft pink skin is susceptible to most any insult, to include excessive grass exposure, while our teeth aren’t good for much more than mulching Cheerios. If dropped naked into an enclosure occupied by anything more serious than a peckish porcupine, we are little more than food. However, the great equalizer rests jauntily atop our shoulders. The human brain is the most effective survival tool in the known universe.
Bikes & Dogs
Your brain weighs about 3 lbs., and it is mostly fat. However, that remarkable organ is capable of doing some of the most amazing stuff. Back in 1817, the 3 lbs. of exquisitely organized fat that resided in the head of a Frenchman named Karl von Drais conjured up the velocipede. This forerunner to the modern bicycle focused the mechanical output of the human body more efficiently than might be the case with simple walking. His curious invention was also called the Dandy Horse and the Bonecrusher. Von Drais’ velocipede was arguably the precursor to all modern transportation devices. For the first time in human history, man could move expeditiously from one place to another without worrying about oats or a saddle.
The problem was that the hounds of the world were familiar with horses and mules. They didn’t have a clue what to do with these big-wheeled contraptions. When in doubt, most dogs’ default code is to rip the very heart out of a threat. That meant in the early 19th century, more and more velocipede pilots grew weary of being attacked by angry dogs. In response, a French gunmaker named René Galand, son of esteemed revolver inventor Charles-François Galand, conjured a solution. He called his compact little pistol the Velo-dog.
Purpose-Built Pistol
Velo-dog is a portmanteau combining the terms velocipede and, well, dog. The intended mission was to dissuade angry canines from biting your legs, unhorsing riders from their velocipedes, or worse. Eventually, the idea caught on, and these compact little counter-dog guns were being produced most everywhere. It turned out you could theoretically use a Velo-dog pistol against stuff other than dogs as well.
The original French Velo-dog fired a unique centerfire 5.5mm cartridge. This odd round pushed a roughly 30-grain bullet with about the same muzzle energy as a .22 Long. Subsequent versions fired other rounds. For the less durable velocipedists, ammunition manufacturers offered Velo-dog rounds charged with cayenne pepper, wax, lead dust, or cork projectiles in lieu of conventional bullets. The obvious mission was not to hunt dogs; it was just to dissuade them from fomenting undue mischief.
I Know I’m Pathetic …
I’m a literal slave to regional gun auctions. The gun nerd with poor impulse control is frankly doomed. I have, however, landed some truly superlative firearms in this manner. And then there was this thing …
I bid about nothing for this adorable little wheelgun because I kind of felt sorry for it. This particular auction was dirty with high-end iron that commanded rarefied prices. However, this beat-up little Velo-dog revolver garnered very little attention. I had zero need for a 150-year-old Belgian pocket gun that fired obsolete black powder cartridges unavailable anywhere. I landed it for a song.
The whole gun would readily hide in the front pocket of a pair of Levi’s. There are no markings save a pair of proof marks. If ever there was a serial number, it has succumbed to the ravages of time.
This weird little gun is double-action-only with a generous firing pin set into the hammer. I would not think it wise to pocket-carry this gun with a round under the hammer. A vigorous jostling could easily reassign your gender whether you felt dysphoric or not.
The gun loads via a Colt-style loading gate on the right. The trigger folds forward and out of the way for easy storage. There is the niftiest little pivoting ejection rod that stows inside the hollow cylinder pin. When needed you just extend the ejection rod, pivot it right to settle over the appropriate cylinder, and use it to shove out empty cases. The rod is positively retained throughout.
The most prominent marking is a crown-over-R proof on the right side of the frame. Google knows all. This indicates Belgian origin and that it is proofed for black powder loads. After an exhaustive internet search I was unable to locate another gun exactly like it. As patent laws were notoriously difficult to enforce back in the late 19th century and they carried literally no weight across national borders, everybody and their grandmother started making these adorable little pistols. In the lead-up to the 20th century, the Velo-dog represented the state-of-the-art in pocket carry hardware.
Ruminations
Galand first marketed his adorable little guns as the Revolver de Poche. While that sounds a bit like “Revolver de Pooch,” poche actually means pocket. The Germans enjoy an insensate affection for consonants, so they called theirs the Radfahrerrevolver.
Galand’s company churned out these tiny little wheelguns from 1894 up until 1940, when the Germans purloined France. Clones were produced around the globe in .22, .25, and .32 calibers. A French company called Manufrance sold Velo-dog pistols through the mail back in the 1930s for 45 francs. That was about $2.70 back then or roughly $61 today. They offered a layaway program so you could pay in installments if you couldn’t come up with the whole sum all at once.
Vintage Velo-dog pistols are tactically worthless today. There is a niche collector’s market for them, but I wouldn’t shoot mine for love or money. “Accidentally blew his hand off trying to shoot a 150-year-old black powder counter-dog gun” would look pretty stupid on a tombstone. However, there has been one documented case wherein a despondent woman used a .25-caliber Velo-dog to tragically take her own life. To do so, she actually shot herself in the temple … twice.