Tellers of Tails : THE LITERARY DOG: Great Contemporary Dog Stories <i> edited by Jeanne Schinto (The Atlantic Monthly Press: $19.95; 377 pp.) </i> : THE COMPANY OF DOGS <i> edited by Michael J. Rosen (Doubleday: $19.95; 327 pp.;) </i>

There is something about dogs and stories about them that can reduce the heart of even the meanest, hardest Leona Helmsley-type character into a quivering blob of emotion and kindness. Vicious and unrepentant killers have been known to break down over their old canine friends; tycoons who all week gouge widows and orphans spend their Saturdays mulling over their labs or setters or whatever.

On the other hand, some of the sweetest and most generous people on Earth are left cold at the thought of dogs and bored by others’ attention to them. What it amounts to is, you’re either a dog person or you’re not. These two collections for the most part are for dog people, despite protestations to the contrary contained in the introductions of each.

Between them there are about 55 stories, half a dozen of which overlap in each volume. And they are contemporary stories, most published within the last decade in short-story collections or by small literary reviews and university presses, with a smattering of reprints from magazines such as the New Yorker, the Atlantic and Esquire. There is of course great diversity as to subject matter and presentation, and the writing at times is a little uneven, which is also to be expected.

Alistair Macleod in “Winter Dog” tells the tale of a Canadian youth whose family buys a dog for herding and, after he turns out to be useless for that, makes him a pet. He saves the life of his young master in a dangerous ice storm only to grow into a mean brute who finally has to be killed. In “The Complete Death of the Clown Dog,” Ethan Mordden relates his transitory years in college through an aging dog who does tricks at an improvised circus in his home town.

The death of dogs is a favorite topic in many of these tales. In “The Immortal Dog,” by Jack Matthews, an old man, alone and ailing, is confronted by his neighbors because his dog is chasing children in the streets. Ordered by police to get rid of the dog, he buys poison and watches the animal die an excruciating death until he finally has to put him out of his misery, at the same time turning himself into a brooding, bitter person.

In Tom McGuane’s “Flight,” two old hunting friends, one dying, meet for a final quail shoot, and it is the beautiful and precise working of the dogs that brings each out of his own moroseness.

I recollect from my dim past an axiom for the writing of fiction, that all good plots concern themselves with at least one of three conflicts: man versus nature, man versus man and man versus himself. This travels as well in dog fiction.

For instance there is “The Story of Two Dogs” by the South African writer Doris Lessing, and it has a plot right out of “East of Eden” or “Rich Man Poor Man.” Two dogs, Jock and Bill, are raised together on a South African farm, but Bill is unruly and leads Jock astray. Bill is blamed and finally turned out by the family, who receive reports far and wide of his misdeeds in the wild. But in the end, when Bill at last meets his fate, old Jock howls at the moon in sorrow. Sound mushy? Well, it’s not, really--it’s a fine story.

John Updike, in “Deaths of Distant Friends,” uses the death of his dog to reconcile himself with the passing of humans he has known. In “Seeing Eye,” Michael Martone tells an interesting story narrated by a mail carrier in a small village in which practically everyone specializes in training and selling Seeing Eye dogs. The village streets are constructed especially for that purpose, with all sorts of distractions and courses with which to train the dogs. The poignance of the tale is in the constant turnover of dogs, separating the children from their pets before each year is out.

Then there’s the matter of dogs interacting with people’s marriages. In “Keats” by Elizabeth Tallent, a dog of the title name is held hostage by the estranged lover of a woman who has moved to San Francisco and plans to remarry. As the tale unfolds, we see how the ex-husband is able to manipulate the woman by interspersing stories of the dog and their times together with his own woes and troubles. In Bobbie Ann Mason’s “Lying Doggo,” a couple of the ‘60s, now married with children, contemplate the deracination of their lives through their ancient stray dog who has survived with them through the changing years.

There are humorous stories as well. “Canine Chateau” by Veronica Geng is an amusing letter to the secretary of Defense, justifying why her California dog kennel charged the U.S. Government $1,146 to board the dog of a Defense Department employee for a week.

In fact, there are so many kinds of dog stories in these two books it is impossible to categorize, let alone relate all of them. Nor does it seem worth separating them by the volume in which they appear because, in addition to the overlapping, each book is equally delightful. If you’re a dog person, that is.