The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1961, Blaðsíða 42

40
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Summer 1961
Whatever kind of dog was in him had
made his face shorter than it should
be. He was a brownish-white and big.
By this time he was about one hun-
dred and fifty pounds, and on his hind
legs he stood around six feet tall. That
boy never went anywhere without him.
They used to hitch him up to a sleigh
that had a box built on it and he’d
pull that kid all over the place. Well,
as I was telling you about these new
people, the minute they came there
was trouble. Their kids teased Spook,
and when he chased them their parents
would complain to the Mounties.
Then one day their oldest kid hit
Timmy. It was a stupid thing to do.
That wolf-dog knocked him over and
stood over him until the kid was
absolutely frantic. Mind you he didn’t
hurt him any. The Mounties came a
few days later and told the old man that
he’d have to get rid of that animal.
The old man didn’t do anything,
hoping that it would blow over. The
Mounties came back and said if he
didn’t do away with him they would
have to do it.”
“Have a cigarette,” he offered.
“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” After
he had lit his cigarette I asked, “What
did the old man do?”
The store keeper dragged deeply
on his cigarette and shrugged his
shoulders in a sign of hopelessness.
“What could he do? Ele took the dog
out into the bush and left him. He
came back. The next time he took him
further. He still came back.. The third
time he took him thirty, forty miles.
It wasn’t any use. And every time he
came back all Timmy would say was
‘He has to come back. We can’t be
alone.’ ”
“Finally the old man decided he’d
have to shoot him. He took him out
into the bush, but that dog was more
than just a dog, he seemed part hu-
man. He knew something was wrong.
He ‘lit out’ right away. The old man
got one shot at him. He saw some
blood on the ground, but knew it was
no use trying to fallow him in the bush.
Besides it was getting dark. He went
home. It wasn’t a very happy supper
that night.”
“The next morning Timmy went off
to school. It’s right over there,” he
said, pointing at an old ramshackle
building that was boarded up. “But at
four o’clock he didn’t come home. By
half past four his mother was frantic.
Just then the ‘school marm’ called in
to ask how Timmy was. Elis mother
didn’t know what she was talking
about and wanted to know why he
had not come home. The teacher told
her that he had not come to school
and she had called in because she
thought that he was sick.”
“Everybody in town helped search
for him. We all knew what he looked
like. .He was blond and had very fair
skin. All the women used to make a
fuss over him. He’d been wearing a
red corduroy jaoket and breeks. You
don’t see breeks anymore,” he observed
and stopped to light another cigarette.
“We found his tracks going into the
bush about half way to the school.
About a hundred yards in we found
his lunch pail. We knew right away
it was his because it had been his pride
and joy. His parents had ordered it,
it was bright blue, from Eaton’s mail
order.”
“A little further in we found some
pad marks that looked like a wolfs.
Right away some men went back for
rifles. We lost his trail and found it
two maybe three times. Then we lost
it completely. We spread out and
searched, but it was no use. It was a
bitterly cold day, and the wind had
rubbed out his tracks except where
they were well protected by brush.”