My Effortless Attempt
to Transform a Mongrel to an Alaskan Husky
by Stu Cassell - 1963 (age 15)
One Saturday, ages ago, I
found myself with nothing to do to occupy my time. So with out delay, I started to do an
exercise of great strain, called thinking.
As the seconds transformed to minutes an idea began to take hold.
At this particular time, in my
residence, a domesticated carnivorous animal, commonly referred to as the
“dog,” was stationed. This animal was of
fair intelligence and of moderate physical prowess.
A wagon was currently located in my
garage. To bind the dog to the wagon
seemed like great sport at the time. (It
proved to be not so merry a frolic later though).
I did the tedious task mentioned above
and then with unlimited audacity I bound into the wagon. (This was all done in my driveway; the wagon
and animal were faced in the direction toward the public pavement.) I bellowed, “Tally Ho,” but received no
response. For fear of humiliation, with
quick wit and great enthusiasm, I ran to obtain “means” of persuasion to treat
the animal with. (The “means” of
persuasion I am referring to was nourishment; for that was the poor animals
weakness.)
Before one could say
“Neumuralutramicroscopicsylbiovolanicunicosis,” I was back with a piece of
hamburger meat of which I had most graciously relieved the refrigerator in our
kitchen of.
I jumped in the wagon again, and this
time I yelled, “Mush,” and flung the hamburger meat about ten or fifteen yards
ahead of the dog. An instant later the
dog bolted for the meat. However the
physical reaction was one that I had not quite anticipated. Sadly to my disapproval, the wagon tipped
over, dumping its cargo which happened to be me.
Quite disturbed about all this I
decided that it just wasn’t in the poor animal’s blood line to carry out such a
daring feat, challenging the dog’s capacity of dexterity.
The dog had continued to run for the
meat. He devoured the meat in one quick
gulp after reaching it. I had decided to
unbind the dog from the wagon, because it would be a real pity if he should
have to go through this decrepit world, all his life with a wagon attached to
him.
I
proceded toward the dog to untie the vehicle from him, but as soon as he saw
me, (the treacherous person who inflicted the misery of the wagon on him.) he
darted across the street. At that same
instant, a green and white, 1958, eight cylinder, dual exhausts, skirted,
chevelet convertible, had come down the street, and at first the driver had not
seen the moderate sized figure.
The
driver, showing split-second reflexes, jammed most gracefully on his power
brakes and just barely missed physical contact with the animal. Words cannot take form to express the maximum
of relief I held within.
I
quickly ran to get the dog and again with great haste, he ran from me. Even through my omniscience, I could not
capture him until twenty-five minutes had elapsed since the departure of the
“almost” accident area.
When
I did catch him, I could tell with no great difficulty that the dog had
classified me as “Public Enemy No. One.”
I found however later, much to my relief, that this was only temporary. It only lasted until the time for him to be
fed come.
Fast friends the domesticated, carnivorous, animal, and I were again. (Until my next escapade with him.)
The End
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