Townsend Harris High School - Crimson Gold Yearbook (Flushing, NY)

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dog, there,s no doubt about that. But what kind is beyond me. Anyhow, his name is Beebo. He's tremendous in size, always dirty Che belongs to no onej, and professes to adore me. Such humiliation! Well, that about completes the list of characters, so on with my tale. fNo pun intended., One day, after returning by car from a dog show in which Sir Colvin and I carried away the honors, I was permitted to go to the village for a little jaunt before being turned in for the night. As I was pacing slowly along the sidewalk fand being ac- corded my due respectl, I noticed Sir Colvin carrying on a flirtation with a sheephound of some low breed. At sight of me, however, he left l1er and raced over to my side. '6Har-ya, Aggie,'9 he grinned. Howie the old gal? We sure carried away the show today. '4Yes, and due to no credit of yours, I replied tesjjly. Your mistress certainly beauty-parlored you up sleek. Why, you smell like a room full of perfume? '6Well, you're not exactly a pansy your- self, he grinned in return. But never mind that. How about a little smacker, huh ?', Humph,', I barked, my nose so high in the air that it grew cold. '4I'd sooner kiss-9' I looked around for an object of my feelings, and beheld Beebo pacing lumborously down the street. Whenever I see that dog he's al- ways going nowhere-slowly. I don't believe he could get up enough energy to shake a fly off his tail. I-Ie's big, and clumsy, a cross between a shepherd and a great dane. His tail reminds one of a mountain road, winding up and down and landing goodness knows where. I-Iis thick matty fur is always covered with burrs, while the idiotic, senseless grin that spreads over his countenance continu- ously, seems to fit him perfectly. He's a sort of fixture in town. He lives on scraps that people throw him, sleeps half the time and the other half he is busy looking for food. No- body knows where he came from, and every- body wishes he would return soon. He's amiable, and good-natured, but not the sort of animal to add prestige to our little town. Still hot from Sir Colvin's retort, I added, snapping, Pd sooner , kiss-yes-Beebo, there. No sooner l1ad I uttered these words than I regretted them. Sir Colvin was a great punster and practical joker. If I didn't live page fifty-two

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AS CANINES G0 By Lady Agatha the Third In Collaboration with Irving Levenson My goodness, when I hear these so-called human beings discussing us canines as though we were inferior beings, it makes me mad. What have they over us, anyhow, that makes them think they're the high--whatever it is- and walk around with their chests stuck out so far that the buttons on their vests are liable to pop off ? fBy the way, we animals term ourselves canines, not dogs. A dog in our language is a tramp in yours. And after all, Lady Agatha the Third, Champion, and blue ribbon winner five times, cannot very well be termed a tramp, eh?D And another thingg in what way are these humans better than we? Have they got nice, sleek, warm hair like ours? Most certainly they haven't. When winter comes they have to bundle up with only their noses showing, and still they shiver. I've often wondered how they manage to move about, loaded down as they are like persons with Christmas pres- ents. And did you ever see those women, with their hair covering their ears completely, or wound fancily around their necks, like tails? You would think they were afraid of having their dirty ears seen. Humph! And last, but not least, they talk about their petty love affairs as though they were the only living creatures that made love. Say, did you ever see two doves cooing, or snakes necking? fThey're all neck it seems to me., Indeed, we anilnals can truthfully ask-what have you humans that we haven't? And that is where my story comes in. It's about three characters--four, to be exact. Myself QI'm a collie, with long, brown and white beautiful hair, a perfectly shaped head fthe judges say all thisl, and a very friendly disposition, except when my ire's aroused., Next comes Sir Colvin the ninth, Champion, and the snubbiest canine you ever saw or smelt. Third, is my mistress' baby. I like the little tot, although she does annoy me frightfully at times by pulling my hair and twitching my ears. But she is sweet-in fact, all we canines of Mitsville, N. J. love her. Fourth, is something or otherg heis a page fifty-one

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up to my words, I would have a dreadful time in town. You dggnit say,', he growled meaningly, his eyes aglitter. Well, he turned around and motioned toward that disreputable sheep- hound who had edged up. f'There's a wit- ness. I DARE you to live up to your words. I turned cold with fright and shame. Me, Lady Agatha the Third, to kiss such a-oh, words fail me. It was frightful. The very thought sickened me. But yet I couldn't re- fuse. The disgrace of kissing him would be much better than the thought of what the other canines would say. You see, I have a sort of reputation in town of never having refused to take a dare. Pm something like that human fellow, Steve Brodie, I think his name was. By this time Beebo was close to us, his large tongue hanging out, his eyes half-closed oblivious to all that was happening. 4'Well, ' grunted Sir Colvin, Pm waiting. He flicked his tail in satisfaction. He had me in a pickle and knew.it. Coming to a decision I stepped over to Beebo, grimaced, and licked his face rapidly, once. Wwhy, you should have seen the ex- pression on that creature's countenance. His eyes popped open wide, his body seemed to shrivel, and from his throat issued the queer- est sound I have ever heard, something like the baa of a sheep. Glancing at Sir Colvin, I saw him wriggling with joy, his mouth open in complete ecstasy. Giving a short bark of contempt, I walked rapidly away. I, Lady Agatha, to be humiliated in such a manner! Well, the next day everyone knew of this event. Sir Colvin saw to that. And how he gloated. Wherever I went I was met with glances that would never before have been cast my way. It soon grew totally unbearable. And to augment this tragic state of affairs, that mutt-that-dog, Beebo, as though not realizing why I had shown such affection for him, followed me around wherever I went, like a bodyguard. Never would he let me out of his sight. Occasionally he tried to get into our house, but my mistress saw to his staying out, thank goodness. My mistress and master, quite naturally, could not under- stand what was going on. All they saw was this simply horrible, ugly, despicable hound, following me wherever I went. And to say the least, they were displeased. But the worst one, by far, was that--dog, Sir Colvin. When- page ffty-three