Literary
Musings
By PROF. ROBERT G. MULDER
The day was New Year’s Eve, 1971.
My wife and I were returning from a
Christmas vacation in Florida via the
turnpike. Cars were moving slower than
usual for a misty rain was falling and
vision was impaired considerably.
Suddenly my wife jumped as if she’d
been shot. “Stop the car! Stop the car!”
she pleaded.
“What on earth is wrong?” I asked,
somewhat perturbed at her upset of the
quiet cruise we were enjoying.
“Back up. Please. I think there’s a
puppy back there,” she begged.
As soon as I managed to get out of the
moving traffic and into the emergency
lane, I began my slow movement back
to the object of her exclamation.
Then we spotted her for the first time.
She was standing beside a green plastic
garbage bag, the same one that had
been her prison until she had managed
to wiggle herself free.
The first time I saw this puppy I felt
sorry for her. She had no hair except for
two small patches behind her ears and
on her tail. About the size of an average
grapefruit, she looked like a freshly
hatched duckling. As we stood in the
rain gazing at our new-found life, I
suppose it was love or, at any rate,
sympathy at first sight.
It took us no time to assemble an
array of warn clothes, mostly my shirts,
in a small cardboard box for her new
temporary home. The trip on the
freeway continued until we finally
reached an exit where milk and a
hamburger pattie were procured. The
female pup ate ravenously.
“Oh, we’ll leave her at the first
S.P.C.A. we pass,” my wife promised.
Strange things are wrought by a
homeless female cooped up in a car with
a sympathetic man and woman. For
three hundred miles, we traveled, and if
we passed any home for foundlings, we
failed to spot them.
When we drove into our driveway
several hours later, Gertie, as she was
named by my wife, was already one of
the family. We began to unload the car
after we had made Gertie comfortable
in a more spacious box in our kitchen.
The next day started a series of visits
to the vet which was to continue
throughout the year. We immediately
learned that our puppy had a severe
case of mange, which, according to the
doctor, may never be completely cured.
He kept Gertie for a week, gave her
daily shots and baths, and released her
to us with several kinds of medication.
My wife became the constant at
tendant to the sick canine. Careful at
tention was given to the doctor’s
prescribed schedule for Gertie’s
rehabilitation. We both became aware
that she had an unusual sensivity to our
attention. It was as if she were trying to
show real gratitude for her rescue whcih
we had made.
Days and weeks grew into months.
She responded beautifully to training
and discipline. She became house and
auto broken at an early age, and her
disposition exceeded that of other pets
we had known. Like so many pet
owners, we communicated verbally
with Gertie having the full assurance
that she understood.
After we had treated her for six
months with little success, her doctor
clipped over half of her body in order to
have better access to the itchy spots she
kept scratching. Needless to say, she
looked hideous and we were em
barrassed for her to go outside. The
neighbors would not believe that such a
sight as Gertie was not carrying some
awful disease which may infect their
own animals.
Therefore, we kept her with us—in the
house, at my office, on trips in the car—
so that we could explain to those who
laughed at her unusual hair-clipped
body. We didn’t mind having our
feelings hurt, but we felt that Gertie
should be spared cruel ridicule. After
all, it was she who was doing the suf
fering and we who had rescued her from
that rainy turnpike on which she had
been abandoned.
Months grew into a year. Many trips
to the veternarian had only prolonged
Gertie’s miserable, itchy existence. We
were assured that she was not in pain,
only uncomfortable, from the blood
condition which made her itch. The
unpleasant scent which her condition
carried was partially soothed by pet
spray.
Our moment of decision was soon to
be upon us, however. On our most recent
visit, Gertie’s doctor said that he had
done all he could. He told us what a
noble thing we had done, but declared
his inability to cure her. He seemed
reluctant to keep accepting our money
(By this time we had spent well over a
hundred dollars) for a cure which was
impossible. Because we had great
confidence in our vet, we felt that his
diagnosis should be accepted, and our
rays of hope seemed to cloud with the
mist in our eyes.
Yet, what other alternative was
there—no cure, continued scratching
and loss of hair, incessant spraying in
order to kill the smell, and uneasiness
for Gertie the rest of her life. There was
one solution mentioned: pills, those tiny
capsules which put suffering animals
out of their misery for good; mercy
killing is what humans call it. We both
wondered if the animal kingdom had a
similar terminology.
There were those of our friends who
knew something of Gertie’s plight.
Almost everyone of them were in
agreement; put her to sleep and get
yourself another dog.
We got the pills and came home;
neither of us spoke on the way. Gertie
offered no resistance as we called her
into the living room for what was to be
her last visit.
My wife and I took our favorite chairs,
and Gertie took her familiar sprawl
under the piano bench. We all looked at
each other. Only the gods know how
similar our thoughts were running
parallel at the time. I can only account
for my own.
Smoke Signals, Wednesday, January 31, 1973—Page 5
Honor Students Listed
Gibson, John G., Glover, Miley
W., Goney, Jerry E., Goodin,
George L., Greene, Dennis L.,
Greene, Stanley T., Grey, Anne
K., Griffin, Janet Marie, Guertin,
Michael R., Hall, Ronald J.,
Hardesty, Russell K., Hare, Paul
R., Hassell, Alice L., Heath,
Betsy J., Hewett, Ralph C.,
Holder, Vanessa D.,
Hollingsworth, Arlie K., Hosea,
Marilyn G., Hughes, Qifford
Craven, Hulings, Harold E.,
Hunt, John R., Ives, Nancy K.,
Jones, Carl, Kilcoyne, Mary A.,
Lane, Ellen A., Lavelle, Robert
J., Long, Michael L., McCain,
Judy M., McClelland, Marsha L.,
McKenny, Matthew J., Mann,
John R., Meier, Douglas P.,
Midyette, Mary E., Miller, Betsy
L., Miller, Marlene Kay, Mit
chell, Elma Yvonne, Morgan,
Samuel P., Morgan, William D.,
Noe, Fletcher, Ormand, Robert
A., Owenby, Faye Elise, Page,
Dennis Wayne, Parker, Lorenzp,
Parrish, Barbara G., Petty,
Cheryl J., Pobst, Olive E.,
Powers, Donna M., Pruette,
David R., Pruitt, Jaunita G.,
Ray, George T..Richards,
Marvin Stephen, Rollins,
Timothy Lee, Roundtree, Linda
F., Rowe, Jennings S., Sadler,
James W., Santiago, Diosdado
A., Simmons, David K., Slater,
Dayton F., Jr., Smigel, Carolyn
B., Smith, Vera E., Smith,
William A., Stanko, James,
Thompson, Joe, Titcomb, Ginger
K., Tope, John C., Troy, Richard
H., Tuttle, Paul A., Jr., Veneris,
James M., Vernon, Preston M.,
Vinson, Danny R., Wade, Charles
M., Warmack, Charles P.,
Warren, Paul E., Ill, Weede,
Belinda A., Weeks, Branda K.,
West, Barbara J., Whitaker,
Larry W., White, Deborah L.,
White, Elizabeth Ann, Whitley,
Ella M., Wilkins, Pamela L.,
Williams, Malcolm S., Winters,
Stephen G., Wright, Judy G.,
Wright, Sylvester M., Yakin,
Andy F., Yerger, John A.
PRESIDENT’S LIST
Anderson, Jeanne B., Bullock,
Judy D., Davidson, Etonna A.,
Drake, Sandra L., McDonald,
Catherine R., Rothenberg,
Bobbie J., Ward, Beechye L.,
Williamson, Curtis A..
DEAN’S LIST
Ballard, James S., Barden,
Gaye M., Bennett, Steven Lowell,
Bishop, Robert., Blanchard,
Terry E., Bowman, Stephen L.,
Braswell, James A., Bright,
Richard L., Brown, Arleen R.,
Burgess, Gerald W., Butler,
Linda A., Butler, Rickey G.,
Carr, Phillis A., Clements,
Michael L., Colgin, Charles E.,
Cillier, Dwight G., Craddock,
Howard B., Craddock, Sandra P.,
Crosbie, Roberta L., Curley,
Esther E., Embrey, Patricia R.,
Fagan, Pamela S., Gaskin,
Delores A., Gross, Debra A.,
Guy, Suzanne E., Helms, Michael
E., Hill, Jo A., Humberstone,
K^en D., Johnson, Alfred E.,
Jones, Vickie S., Killmon, Mark
C., Klaus, Deborah A., Lakin,
Patricia C., Lane, Randall C.,
Lawrence, Charles B., Linn,
Gerald M., Jr., Long, Nancy L.,
Lowers, Edgar Lee, Moore,
James E., Odio-Esene, Anthony
ESiidiame, Oleyar, Donna L.,
Parsons, Donald R., Peters,
Stephen C., Ragland, Vickie S.,
Renner, Baldwin Keito, Sanders,
Nathen S., Simkins, Steven R.,
Snider, Michael T., Sumner,
Charlie B., Tilley, Willis C.,
Tyrrell, Edward B., Vann, Alice
D., Williams, Susie M., Wulf,
Walter J., Wynns, Joseph B., Jr.
HONOR’S LIST
Abbott, Merle L., Jr., Adams,
Edward P., Adkins, Patricia A.,
Bagby, Don W., Barham, Cindy
L., Bass, Theresa D., Bates,
Michael W., Boeggeman, Linda
M., Boone, Terry C., Bomtrager,
Patricia E., Bowen, Maria C.,
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Jack R., Broadhurst, Duran R.,
Brooks, Deborah E., Brown, Coy
L., Jr., Brown, Stanley D.,
Brown, William M., Bryant,
David W., Bush, Joyce A., Butler,
Wanda K., Byrum, Earlene F.,
Cearley, William D., Jr.,
Chandler, George D., Corbet,
Debr J., Cruso, Robert D.,
Chenworth, Bernard Grey,
Currie, Patricia G., Duke, Sylvia
G., Echerd, Robin L., Eley,
Qaude A., Jr., Emery, Joseph L.,
Fallis, Patricia D., Ferrell,
Garland Ricky, Forbes, Joseph
B., Gaither, William T., Gatling,
Shirley, George, Habeed C.,
Old
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11
“There’s no sense in ad
vertising your troubles. No
one will buy them.”
Could we take into our hands the life
we had preserved, a feeble life already
discarded to die when we came upon the
scene? Would we be able to live with
ourselves if we let an innocent victim of
disease, incurable as it may be, give us
the privilege of playing God? How could
we so easily forget our debt to Gertie
who had come to love and trust us as
master and mistress?
The dog seemed to sense what thought
were running rampart in our minds. She
seemed to know that we had to do what
we were doing and that the ecision was
not easy. Slowly she k-ft her place on the
floor and walked over to my wife for a
final pat of approval. With tears in her
eyes, the mistress had Gertie sit for her;
Gertie wanted to shake hands. Af
terwards, she came over to me and
“spoke lightly,” something that I had
taught her.
The thought of what faced me was
sickening to my stomach. I left the two
ladies in the living room and went to the
bathroom where I flushed the pills of
eternal sleep into oblivion. Then the
three of us went for a happy drive.