~swciate Editors—MYRA ZEISER RISLEY, MRS. T. M. B.
SECTION A —PAGE 2
THE DALLAS POST Established 1389
“More Than A Newspaper, A Community Institution
Now In Its 71st Year”
Member Audit Bureau of Circulations
Member Pennsylvania Newspaper Publishers Association |
Member National Editorial Association
Member Greater Weeklies Associates, Inc.
.
Editor and Publisher—HOWARD W. RISLEY
Associate Publisher—ROBERT F. BACHMAN
HICKS
Sports—JAMES LOHMAN
Advertising—LOUISE C. MARKS
> 7’
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Editorially Speaking:
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PEARL HARBOR DECEMBER 7, 1941
by Hix
Today is the twentieth anniversary of the Japanese
attack on Pear] Harbor.
The filing cabinets in the basement at the Dallas
Post are crowded with one-column cuts of boys who hur-
ried into uniform to defend their country.
Two-column cuts are there, too, mute reminders of
the boys who never came back.
The Dallas Post published, during the war years, a
list of the boys who had died, with dates and places, in
the place of honor at the top of the front page, left hand
side.
Each successive week, the list grew longer.
“Only one plane lost,” shrieked the headlines in
metropolitan newsprint, a salute to the bombers that re-
turned to base.
Only one plane lost. ;
But in that one lost plane, the heart of a mother died.
My heart was in that ome lost plane—
Once more, in paralyzing pain
As on that day when he was torn
From living flesh,
I yield him up again.
Be thine, Oh monstrous god of War,
The glory—
Mine, the road to Calvary,
The cruel crown of thorn.
Twenty years ago, Japanese planes zeroed in on
“Pearl Harbor.
The attack has been characterized as a sneak attack,
an act of treachery.
Since when does an enemy issue an engraved
invitation to do“battle? gt
The very essence of battle, since the vanished era
of armored knights meeting in combat, has been surprise.
‘The Japanese planes struck. They wiped out Pearl
‘Harbor. They flew back to their carriers according to a
* prearranged plan.
If they had laid broader plans, they could have de-
___stroyed the Panama Canal on the same day. For some
they did not continue to rain death,
A Saknom reason, \
' though there would have been no way of stopping
them if they had chosen to attack the Canal Zone at the
same time they raked Pearl Harbor with hell-fire.
This country is now under attack from the forces
of Communism. Each day, propaganda nibbles away a
little more of the stalwart American will to keep its place
in the sun on its own terms and in its own way.
: Not as spectacular as the dawn attack on Pearl
© Harbor.
But far more devastating in its over-all effect, over
the crowding years, as one liberty after another is jet-
tisoned to the insatiable appetite of the totalitarian state.
Barnyard Notes —
Gretchen, my faithful Doberman, broke the early morning still-
ness, with a series of short, low barks from her bed on the landing
at. the head of the cellar steps.
An intelligent, discerning dog, it was not her usual warning
that an intruder — a curious skunk probing for garbage; a wander-
ing mongrel sniffing through the orchard or a late-homing unsteady
pedestrian was about.
_ I pulled the covers around my shoulders and, not yet thorough-
ly aroused, rolled over in bed. Myra, in the adjoining bed, had not
heard her.
But Gretchen continued her sharp, persistent warning. She
would not be denied, but it was not her usual demand to be let out
in her yard.
Now, thoroughly awake, I groped for my slippers and padded
down the hall. Through the front windows I noticed that lights were
not yet on across the street in the Grade School shrouded in mist.
Henry Welch had not yet begun his daybreak chores.
Once downstairs, I pressed the button that flooded the kitchen
with warm light and looked for my other guardian, Rogue. There in
_ his corner near the kitchen cabinet, his cushion derranged, lay my
old faithful friend, his tortured body convulsed in another fit!
He had had many of them during the past year, since he had
"become too old to follow me to work. But this one I sensed was dif-
ferent! There was water on the floor and his head lay in it. I lifted
him gently and pressed the broken capsule of aromatic spirits of
Ammonia against his warm muzzle, and laid his head on a cushion
of clean newspapers. There was no response! Usually Rogue would
snap out of it with this treatment and unsteadily reel into a cornen
* there to stand for the rest of the day. He and I had gome through
r this many times before!
For a half hour I waited as this prolonged convulsion shook his
_ body. I nervously lighted a cigarette and waited at the kitchen table.
~ _. His unseeing eyes told me that he was in no pain. It would soon be
over. There would be no more body wracking fits. Thank God he
- would go shortly on his own bed, in his own corner in the home that
he loved — without the assistance of the veterinarian’s merciful
needle!
And thus quietly of old age ended the life of one of the most
’ devoted friends that come so rarely to a man during his lifetime!
. Rogue was a mongrel! He was the son of John Hewitt’s regis-
- tered English Setter and an equally blooded Springer Spaniel. He
- was an’ individualist who early showed his independence and self-
reliance by wandering away from the litter at the farm on the Hunts~
_ ville-Idetown Road and making his way alone to Dallas, unowned,
uncontrolled — a stray dog. (It was not until years later that John
Hewitt recognized him and told me the story of his parentage)
Rogue was a [Francois Villion — if any four-footed creature was
ever entitled to that distinction. His happy personality brought him
friends wherever he wandered, hung up his hat or wagged his bushy
tail. But his big heart encompassed so many that he had difficulty
~ remaining steadfast to anyone for more than brief periods.
I first became acquainted with him more than sixteen years ago
8 —when housewives near Dallas Grade School spoke about the
~ beautiful silky-coated Setter that came to their doorsteps winter
“evenings asking for handouts.
\
His distinctive long, jet black ears, the funny black and white
' markings that bisected his face — one alert eye completely sur~
"rounded with black, the other roguishly cocked in a field of white
gave him the appearance of a clown and stole their hearts. :
No one could turn so happy a dog away, so housewives bedded
him down on their back porches after giving him warm scraps from
their tables. Mrs. Winnie Thomas on Rice Street remembers those
frigid evenings well! Rogue was grateful for her solicitude through-
: out his life and gave her an affectionate sniff whenever he met her
© “years later at her son’s fruit stand on Memorial Highway. -
The tales of the wandering dog did not make any real impact
on me until the following spring when breathless youngsters on their
‘way ta school ran into the Post bubbling over with accounts of the
Looking at
T-V
With GEORGE A. and
EDITH ANN BURKE
TOP PERFORMANCE—dJulie Har-
ris again gave proof of her greatness
as an actress in her glowing per-
formance in ‘Victoria Regina.”
We wager this show can’t miss
being nominated for TV’s highest
award, the Emmy,
It was a very difficult role since
it covered 60 years in the Queen’s
life. But Julie Harris was perfect
whether as the young princess, the
devoted wife 'of Prince Albert or the
old Empress.
There could have been no happier
choice for her consort than James
Donald who gave just the right
amount of gentleness to a demand-
ing role,
Hallmark certainly can be pleased
with this adaptation of Laurence
Houseman's play.
PIPER LAURIE, Ann Harding,
Maurice Evans, Ina Balin, Arthur
Hill and Joan Hackett will par-
ticipate in the “Westinghouse
Presents” show Friday, Dec. 8 at
10 p.m. “Come Again to Carthage”
is about a nun who finds that she
has chosen her vocation for the
wrong reasons. Piper Laurie plays
the role of the nun and Ann Hard-
ing plays her mother. j
CAR 54, WHERE ARE YOU? Joe
E. Ross and Fred Gwynne, co-
stars, want it to be known that
their car breakdown during the re-
cent Thanksgiving Day parade tele-
cast was not a gag or a publicity
gimmick, The real-life search for
Car 54, which showed up at the
last minute with several clowns
pushing it, came about as the re-
sult of a dead battery.
ITALIAN COMMUNISTS — An
hour-long show, “The Remarkable
Comrades,” will be presented on the
ABC-TV’s “Close - Up!” program
Sunday, Dec. 10 at 10 p.m.
The telecast will present films of
a party cell meeting and of a visit
to the party's international leader-
ship training school, as well as a
report on the Communist Party's
business enterprises. It will also
focus on the opposition by the
Roman Catholic Church.
CAROL BURNETT says “There
are few women comics seen regular-
ly on TV because women are more
inhibited than men. Theyre afraid
to let themselves go. They always
want to look pretty.
Carol doesn’t care if she looks
pretty or not while on camera. “I'd
rather get a laugh,” she continues.
“T know I'm not going to win a
beauty contest.”
She likes the hours she has with
Garry Moore. She works on Tuesday
from 1-to 6. Five hours on Wednes-
day and five hours on Thursday.
Friday, the day they tape the show,
she works 8 hours. That adds up to
23 hours. *
At the moment she has no desire
to have a show of her own.
ROGUE = A GENTLEMAN and A C
THE DALLAS POST, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1961
C20 CO ATE
Rambling Around E
5 By The Oldtimer—D. A. Waters z
C2030 EEC CEC ES EIS
Closing the Armour Leather Tan-
nery at Noxen removes the last big
industry on the Bowmans Creek
Branch of the Lehigh Valley Rail-
road. The present one is the “new”
tannery. The Mosser Tanning Comp-
any had one over twenty-five years
before this one.
Albert S. Orr of Dallas interested
George Shonk of Wilkes-Barre,
whose family owned timber land at
Ruggles; the Troxell Family, owners
of land at Harveys Lake; The Ry-
man Brothers and Joseph Shaver in
lumber business at Dallas; and oth-
ers, and persuaded them to take
stock in a proposed railroad in 1885.
He secured right of way, most of it
in long leases without expense,
secured a franchise, and started to
build from the Luzerne end. Short-
ly thereafter Albert Lewis, owner
of larger tracts farther up the wval-
ley, interested the Lehigh Valley
Railroad, which bought up the fran-
chise ahd completed the road.
For practical purposes the branch
ran from Wilkes-Barre via Dallas
and Bernice to Towanda. Officially
it began at the Main Line at Pt.
Bowkley, about three miles above
Wilkes-Barre, and extended to
Bernice. Beyond Bernice it was a
separate railroad, the Loyalsock,
called the State Line and Sullivan.
Connecting at Satterfield, a little
beyond Bernice, was another small
railroad called the Williamsport and
North Branch. It was about fifty
miles from Wilkes-Barre to Bern-
ice, requiring nearly 1500 telegraph
poles. There were in the busy days
about eighty-five sidings, including
those on branches, Albert Lewis
Lumber and Mfg. Co. owned a
private road about twelve miles
long, branching off this side of
Alderson, running away from and
north of the Lake to Ruggles, with
a connecting line to meet the L.V.
line just this side of Noxen. Trex-
ler and Turrell and The Central
Pa. Lumber Co. and perhaps others,
ran their own trains over railroad
company tracks under special agree-
ments. g
Through passenger trains were
operated between Wilkes-Barre and
Towanda, requiring a day for the
round trip with several hours lay-
over. These usually had few cars
and had to back into passing sid-
ings to let the freight train pass,
contrary to usual railroad proce-
dure. Long trains were operated
on excursions to Harveys Lake from
Wilkes-Barre, laying over at the
Lake and returning the same day.
There were also special passenger
trains to Ganoga Lake, which was
reached by a branch from Rick-
etts, from as far away as New
York.
Local freights were run through,
stopping at every small station for
which freight was on the train, and
the trainmen unloading it at each
place. For much of the area there
were no roads at all from any place
of good size and the railroad was
the sole source of supplies. It took
a whole day to make the trip, re-
turning the next day. In the early
days lumber and timber, and tan
bark, etc. were the principal items
of freight, Later Arthur L. Stull
and Albert A. Stull, nephews. of
Albert Lewis, built two big dams,
named Splash Dams Nos. 1 and 2.
and built immense ice houses from
which an ice train was run to the
Valley every weekeday and some-
times several of them. The railroad
company had its own ice houses
all along the entire railroad and
shipped over this branch annually
hundreds of cars, probably thous-
ands, for railroad use. Harvesting
ice was a principal industry in the
Back’ Mountain Area for months.
and some men left home apd lived
at Mountain Springs, then Bean
Run, for weeks at a time. The Ice
Company maintained boarding hous-
es for them.
Ryman and Shaver had a siding
near the present Orchard Farm
Road. The Rice Mill, now Devens,
had a siding, shorter than at pres-
ent and the Station siding was
also in use. On the flat at the
Telephone Company property Al-
bert Lewis had a mill, with a total
of three sidings. There was also a
passing siding which was maintain-
ed until fairly recently.
Above Dallas there were sidings
at Chestnut Ridge, Outlet, Cherry
Creek, Alderson (6), Harvey's Lake,
Gravel, Noxen, Mosser Tannery
nearly a mile with several branch
es, Whiteman’s Sawmill, Wilson's, |
Stull (4), Bakers, (2), Hayes, Beth
Run, Sipler, Rock Cabin, Bean Run, |
Meadows, Opperman’s Pass, Un- |
known Pond, Ganoga Lake Branch
about four miles with 11, mostly
the Lewis and Turrell lumber inter-
ests, Ricketts, Lee Road, Wolf Run .
(2), Newells (2), Browns, Trex-
ler & Turrell (3), Lopez (3), Jen-
nings Mill (3), Thorndale Branch
with (6) in about eight miles,
Strouds Mill (2), and several at
Bernice. Most of the names shown
were sawmills, Cherry Creek was
operated by John T. Phillips of
Lake Street.
The Albert Lewis Lumber and
Mfg. Company had interests almost
all over the area beginning at Dal- |
las with offices at Alderson.
Lopez was a busy place then.
besides sawmills, a toy factory and
a kindling wood factory. It had a
railroad water tank for the steam |
engines. There were also water tanks |
at Bernice, Beth Run, and Alder- |
son. Now the tracks in the middle |
of the Branch, west of Noxen, have |
been removed. :
Stull takes its name from Adam |
| Stull, who married a sister of Al- |
bert L. Lewis. His son Fred, brother
of the ice company Stulls, managed |
the store there in the busy days. |
When thou art in the bathtub,
ask not for whom the phone is
ringing, for thou knowest it is for
thee. |
Outdoor Tips
Sure, it's often been said that
deer are wary and wise critters —
but deer can and do make mis-
takes! And the wise hunter will
put meat in the pot or hang up a
record set of antlers if he takes ad-
vantages of these mistakes. If you
see a doe cautiously walking across
a deer path — wait. Deer are
gentleman and smart, and usually
let a lady go first. If you bide your
time, Mr. Big will come right after
his lady and into your sights.
Hunters aren’t' the only ones in
the woods who make noise — deer
can raise up a storm too. Learn
what to listen for in the woods.
Track down unfamiliar noises until
you become familiar with them.
Look for rubbing trees, where deer
have worn away tree bark with
their antlers. If you hear any noise
in the area, chances are it’s a buck
having a go'at a tree. \
Sometimes deer are attracted to
noises instead of being sent skitter-
ing in the opposite direction. If a
hunter makes a lot of noise and
seems nonchalant ‘about it, deer
may come: fairly close to see what
all the hollering is about. This may
sound like a hare-brained scheme
but give it a try sometime and you
may be pleasantly surprised.
Rogue
|
bog
exploits of a wonderful scamp that played with them in the school
yard but broke up their games by stealing the ball or a pitcher's
mitt; remaining tantalizingly close at hand, but just out of their
reach; running here; running there but never giving up the trophy.
(For years after he came to live with us, these youngsters would
come to The Post at all hours pleading, ‘Mr. Risley, will you get
Rogue to give me my cap?”) : :
They told me how he crowded ahead of them — not waiting
his turn — as they climbed the ladder to slide down the playground
sliding board. Rogue became adept at climbing ladders and belly
flopping down sliding boards, his ears flopping, his legs outstretched.
He was likewise self-appointed ring master of the child-power
merry-go-round, standing braced in the middle of the swaying, re-
volving ring, barking orders as youngsters leaped on and off!
Then an ominous note was added to the stories of this clown,
loved by every youngster at Dallas Grade School during those days
at the conclusion of the War.The teachers’ patience had come to an
end! They were not favorably impressed with Rogue's antics, for
Rogue could see no sense in being denied the advantages of a more
formal education When the bell rang and the playground ceased to
ring with children’s laughter, he was forlorn and did something
about it. He trailed into the sacred halls of higher learning. His
appealing eyes and winsome playfulness might win the hearts of
children but teachers had to teach! He sensed the coolness, but he
would not stay out!
He early learned how to open doors! No door that ever exposed
the slightest crack; no screen door. fastened with a hook was a bar-
to his hunger for education, food or companionship! I have seen
him sit patiently for hours in front of a screen door, banging it at
intervals with his paw, until finally the restraining hook leaped out.
of its eye, and as the door bounced open, squeeze his black nose be-
tween the door and the jam and then step proudly onto an enclosed
‘back porch. Once in he applied the same routine to the cabinet
doors that guarded a beloved garbage can. Those were the moments
you could have killed him, but you never quite measured up to it.
‘Well fed as he was, after he came to our house, he never gave
up his love of garbage cans! He remembered. He remembered
those tricks learned during that first hard winter when he picked
up a living wherever he could — most of it from garbgge cans!
Rogue’s formal education was short lived, for, as I have said
teachers didn’t understand his ambition. They asked the school
custodian to “Get rid of that nuisance.” That man of all trades,
somewhat against his will, but not one to shirk a duty, tied a rope
around the silken neck and with Rogue prancing proudly beside him
escorted the culprit beyond the Space Farm where he released him.
In no time, of course, he was back scratching at the doors of higher.
education. This was repeated several times and at much greater
distances but with the same inevitable result!
Finally the day arrived when there was to be no return. The
bedeviled teachers called -the State Dog Agent! That was the day
that Myra really became interested in the homeless dog that had
created such a stir in the neighbourhood. An emergency prompted
immediate decision. She called the County Treasurer's office and
lied beautifully, explaining that she wanted a license for HER dog,
a male Springer Spaniel resembling a Setter, brown eyes, one sur-
rounded with black the other with white. From that day she
claimed Rogue as her dog, though I doubt that he ever really be-
longed to anyone. Rogue was everybody’s dog — just like Russell
Honeywell is everybody’s cop, and Norti Berti was
friend in time of trouble. But Rogue did eat regularly at our house .
and I stippose he was, after a fashion, our dog. He would have been
the first to deny it and tell you that we really belonged to him.
Anyway you want it, Myra always conscientiously saw to it that he
had his new license every year before any other dogs in the neigh-
bourhood were aware that the old ones were no longer good. One
year she forgot and bought him two. ;
. From the day he first wore that tiny brass symbol of good eiti~
zenship,
everybody's
life for Rogue was a bowl of cherries, No dog ever had a |
better home! No dog ever deserved it more!
Throughout his early active years, he repaid his board with his
clownish escapades. In the middle years he paid it with a devotion
and Jove for his mistress that was heart warming. Always when she
left the shop he romped beside her, chasing Star Dust, announcing to
all the world “Here we come!’ In the later years he plodded faith-
fully at her heels — maybe several feet behind, but he would have
said it was his duty, “She's getting older, I've got to protect her,
and this is a busy street”. Ly Rm
Rogue knew how to handle automobiles. Walk right up to them
slowly and say “You move for me.” He never darted and he always
walked slowly and deliberately facing traffic. He had only two close
calls — once when he was with a crowd of us in front of our Barn
and once when he forgot that a driveway is for automobiles and not
to sleep in. ?
He was hit in front of the barn by Mary Lavalle when in a mo-
ment of joyful recognition he ran from behind a parked car to
my mother’s yard where my sister had just arrived. He loved my
sister and could scent her at long distances. She always gave him
an affectionate pat with her hand or foot and he loved that, too.
Fortunately Mary’s car was moving slowly and only roughed him up.
But he was bruised so thoroughly that at first I thought he would
die. [The veterinarian refused to come and attend him on the spot,
but asked me to bring him to his office on a carpet. It was then I
almost lost my respect for an old friend for I have none for physici-
ans who roll over in bed when there is blood running on the high-
way. Rogue soon forgot that bump but he never forgot his encoun-
ter with Ralph Rood’s ancient car at the foot of Ralph's driveway,
It unfolded slowly one sunny afternoon while Rogue was taking
his usual siesta in the cool dust in the gutter where the driveway
joing Lehman Avenue. Gently easing his ancient and respected
vehicle down the drive, Mr. Rood failed to see Rogue.
They were, until that eventful day, fast friends! The car com-
pletely passed over the unsuspecting Rogue, ruffling his pride more
than his body, much the same as a pullet is humiliated after an en-
counter with a lively rooster.
Rogue got up, shook himself and with an expression next to
scorn asked Mr. Rood with those appealing eyes, “How could you do
such a thing to an old friend ? :
From that day until Mr. Rood’s death, Rogue never forgot!
Whenever there was a screech of brakes or a rattling of gravel in
the Rood’s driveway, Rogue ran from whereever he was to bark a
warning. He might be sleeping at Myra’s feet under the desk or
be preoccupied with a squirrel chase — he never failed to let the
world know that in his estimation Ralph Rood was a careless driver.
It finally reached the point where Mr. Rood lost his affection
for Rogue. Then the feeling was mutual,
Rogue had definite likes and dislikes. For all his gentleness, he
never could tolerate interference from any one at mealtime. The
appearance of another dog, even one as rugged as a Doberman, got
his back up. Food meant Life, and he learned that lesson well dur-
“ing those winter days he had had to beg or steal it. But he never
wolfed food! He revealed his breeding in his table manners. He
‘took food gently and almost apologetically from the hand that of-
fered it. He was polite. Children could have learned a wonder-
ful lesson from him.
He had a marvellous scent! When all other senses failed him
— eyesight, hearing and coordination — he could still scent out a
Christmas turkey high on the kitchen counter and steal it in a
twinkling! Foodstuffs had a way of disappearing when the re-
frigerator door was left ajar — and often a raw potato or an onion
went with it from the vegetable bin on the back porch. Auction
committees remember his legerdemain at the hot dog stand. Nothing
violent, impulsive or rash. It was just “easy does it” He was a
deliberate thief! e
Once in his youthful days, he reached into a baby carriage on
Main Street and stole a doll before the unbelieving eyes of a horri-
fied mother. He brought it proudly to the Post where it was placed
on top of a filing cabinet along with his other trophies: a baseball
Vi
"DALLAS, PENNSYLVANIA
From
Pillar To Post...
by Hix
Mrs. George Fetchko of Beaumont, unwrapped the bundle care-
fully and laid it on the counter at the Dallas Post.
From the soft blanket a small dark face looked out, and a tiny
mouth formed a rosebud smile.
Mrs. Fetchko and her husband hung over the baby. “It’s the
smartest little thing you ever saw,” Mrs, Fetchko beamed. :
“And where on earth did you get her?” 3
“From the children’s home in Scranton. She's the fourth we've
had from there. [Four since September a year ago.”
A foster baby couldn’t have a micer foster home, }
The visit with the baby came about completely coincidentally.
It, involved a number of local people. :
First, Helen Peterson on the telephone, “There’s a friend of mine
who would like to give a child’s crib away. What do you suggest?”
“Mrs. Fetchko, out in Beaumont, natch. Mrs. Fetchko and her.
Dorcas Society at the Seventh Day Adventist Church have a pipe=
line to distress all over that region. And theyll make the most of
any gift of clothing or furniture, Call your friend and tell her how
to get in touch with Mrs. Fetchko.”
Then I went home to lunch. ’
A phone call from Myra: “Mrs. Fetchko is here with her hus-
band, and the cutest baby you ever saw. They've been driving all
over Dallas hunting a erib.”
“I'll be right back. Hold everything.” :
Business of swallowing a cup of coffee and finishing a sandwich
on the way out the door. t
We all admired the baby. Mrs. Fetchko said its name was Lois.
It had no other. Lois was two and a half months old, and she was
a good advertisement for the Home and Mrs. Fetchko. Plump and
comfortable, dry and warm, satin-smooth as to skin, bright of eye
and bursting with intelligence. i
Lying on the counter she gurgled delightfully. Held in the crook:
of an experienced Nonnie’s arm, she sagged in all the right places,
resting her head confidently upon a well upholstered shoulder.
“We'll find out who has the crib.” :
Business of telephoning to Mrs. Peterson, Business of tele-
phoning to Mrs. John T. Hughes on Highland Avenue, Goss Manor.
“Let's have a blueprint, Mrs, Hughes.” X
“You can’t possibly miss it.” (os
“You'd be surprised. I can miss anything. Let me have all the.
turn-offs.” ! ; $
"Mapped out, it seemed there might be a chance for error.
“Come on, Mrs. Fetchko, the pilot awaits.” :
Trailed closely by the Fetchko car, and signalling all turns, I
zoomed up Church Street, turned into Center Hill Road, turned
right at the first intersection, as directed. And there was the house,
with Mrs. Hughes waiting expectantly at the door. 4
Mrs. Fetchko, bearing Exhibit A, showed Mrs. Hughes what was
going to sleep in the crib, and the crib was stowed in the back of
the car. I waved goodbye, and got back to my gainful occupation at
the office. }
Since coming to Mrs. Fetchko, Lois has gained three pounds, one
for each week of residency, and her satin skin looks like a plump
sausage casing. 4 JB
. “Hope we'll be able to keep her for awhile, maybe until she’s ai
year old. Maybe the demand isn’t too great for colored babies,’
said Mrs. Fetchko hopefully, reporting progress over the telephone.
SAMMY
By MRS. E. S. IDE
My Scotch Terrier is old and gray
| Some would say “she’s had her day”
- She is still a faithful friend
Although a hand I sometimes lend
To help her up or down a stair §
Or on a choice living room chair.
She shows her teeth and rolls her eyes “
To let me kio%w shes very wise. * :
She speaks for food, water and “out” i
If I am slow she’ll sit and pout i i.
Until this life she bids adieu
I'll care for her — Now wouldn't you? ?
LOWN
‘bat, glove, ball, candle, cap, book and numerous earthen dishes
labeled “Dog” 5 :
He was resourceful, He had a persistent little bark spaced at
intervals that could continue all day. It said “I want in’; “1 want
out” or “I just want something that I haven't got”. He used it fre-
quently — and he would use it for hours at a time — until he got
what he wanted. I don’t know how long he could have kept it up.
I always weakened before he did. It was probably one of the most
irritating of his habits but also the most effective. Often it got him
out of trouble, rarely in it. :
I shall never forget the day he wandered away with an addle-
pated Irish Setter, Blaze. Rogue never left home for any length of
time — except when he went downtown to see Boyd White who he
considered a close friend. Boyd often brought him home at the end
of the day.
But on this particular day, neither of the dogs showed up at
nightfall. Myra and I searched the town for them. Then just as we
pulled into the barn at the end of a fruitless hunt, I heard a
familiar, bark, repeated at intervals from the vicinity of Newberry’s
woods. We drove up to the home now occupied by Bo Northrup,
and, there behind the high wire fence that surrounds the Newberry
Estate we were greeted by two delighted dogs, yelping and leaping
as high as they could against the thwarting barrier, but trapped in
their effort to reach home. We circled down to the Pioneer Avenue
entrance of the Estate and then around the impassable road to the
spot where we had seen the dogs. Blaze was there but “that fool
Rogue was gone’. We waited for him and we called until our pa-
tience was exhausted! Then we headed for home with Blaze in the
station wagon beside us. Who do you think greeted us at the Barn?
You've guessed it. He had stayed with Blaze just long enough to
attract us to her with that bark he always used in emergencies, but
he had known all along how to reach home. How he did it I shall
never know!
So long as Mike and Buck, our wire-haired terriers, were alive,
Rogue was never permitted in the house. Buck would never share
our affection, so Rogue Slept winter and summer, in the coop near
the grape arbor and mornings I fed him in an aluminum dish on our
back porch. Often I was in a hurry to get to work, and, impatient
with His deliberate fondling of his food, would start for the shop be-
fore he had finished. /
One morning I had just slipped the key in the office door, when
I turned to see him eating out of his dish which he had deposited on
the concrete stoop in front of the Post. There had been a slight in-
terruption in his breakfast, but the food was going down as usual
to the last drop. It must have been a picture for any one wbo had
observed a man going to work followed by a dog carrying his lunch
in a dish at his heels.
Rogue loved water as all Springer Spaniels do. As a pup and
as a mature dog he would play for hours with a running hose trying
to catch all of the stream in his mouth. He loved the moon, too.
On spring evenings he would chase a flashlight's beam as I swung
it in a circle across the grass, barking, nipping at the Will-O-The~
Whisp light on the lawn until he was exhausted. It was a favorite
game — chasing Star Dust. 7 ; ’
Yesterday morning when I went down stairs for breakfast there
was no famiiar figure on the cushion in the kitchen corner waiting
for me to loosen his tether and lead him to the back porch for his
moming toilet. For month’s Rogue has been blind, completely deaf,
a shadow of the old warrior that brought so many happy hours to
Myra and me—so much companionship to my late mother, so much
joy to boys and girls, and devotion to all of us. A
He lies beneath the grape arbor, beside his old enemies, Mike
and Buck, and near Tyke, another mongrel almost as great as he.
Of course his spirit isn’t there. You could never confine that
fire in the soft, warm earth he loved to paw so freely. No, that
spirit is up there chasing Star Dust, impatiently darting ahead of the
Cherubs as they slide down the Milky Way; waiting patiently for a
crack to appear in the Pearly r
No
1 arly Gates or pestering benign old St. Pater
with that insistent bark: “I want out.” Aerts g
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