Old Shep

Ivy University, January 23, 195--

Dear Fred:

It was great hearing from you after so many months. Sounds like you've really found a home in the army. You sure are lucky stationed way out there in the middle of Texas, with all that sand, and sunshine, and sand, and fresh air, and all that sand.

Things are pretty much the same here at Ivy U. I'm busy studying for exams. Got to maintain that old C minus average.

Jean and some of the other girls over at Felta Thi have asked about you. The team sure could have used you this season; Midwestern beat us 69 to 0.

Remembering how much I looked forward to mail call during my own tour for Uncle Sammy, I assume you won't mind if I stretch this letter out a bit. I want to tell you about my new roommate and, Fred, that's going to take some telling. I've just been through one of the craziest experiences of my life.

I think I mentioned this fellow in my last letter to you. He's a farm boy from downstate and this is his freshman year. I think I told you I was a little worried about him then. I wasn't sure how he'd fit in with all the sophisticated kids here at Ivy, being so young and sort of green, right off the farm, and everything. Well, buddy, I don't worry any more. This kid catches on fast! Too damn fast, as you'll see. But I think you'll get a kick out of hearing about the mess he got himself into, and how he got himself out of it.

His name is Silas Purgett. Now that sounds like a real hayseed name, Fred, and that's what I thought the first time (continued on page 32) Old Shep (continued from page 29) I heard it. But it didn't take me long to find out this kid was no ordinary yokel. No, sir!

My first day back on campus last fall, I walked into Mrs. Jessie's rooming house and there was this fellow on the floor of our old room, wrestling with a big collie dog. He got up right away when I came in, and damn near broke my hand when he shook it. He's a big kid, nearly two hundred pounds, with sandy hair, and good looking in a country-boyish sort of a way.

"This your dog?" I asked after we'd introduced ourselves.

"Yep," he said. "His name's Shep. Shep and I--we grew up together. My dad bought him for me on my tenth birthday. He's a real smart dog. Smarter'n some people, I think. Dad didn't want to let me bring him up here to college with me 'cause Shep's so much help down on the farm. But when I told him I wouldn't be able to think or study without Shep being around, he finally agreed. If Shep wasn't here, I'd be worrying about him all the time."

"Where are you going to keep him?" I asked.

"Well, Mrs. Jessie says if I build him a doghouse, I can keep him in the back yard," he said.

I was glad to hear that, because I'd begun thinking maybe he planned on keeping him right there in the room. We hit it off right away, Fred, Spent half that first night sitting around shooting the bull. Silas was young, and maybe a little green, but he was smart, and you'd be surprised at how much a smart kid can pick up around a farm in eighteen years. He'd gone to one of those small country schools, and as a youngster he'd been interested in the 4-H Club, prize pigs, and things like that. But he'd learned a lot of other things along the way too, and that's what got him into the mess I'm going to tell you about.

The trouble started our second weekend on campus. I was getting ready for a date with Betsy Miller. You remember her--that cute little blonde from Milwaukee with the dad in the brewery business. I was busy shaving and Si was stretched out on his bed.

"Jack," he said, "how about fixing me up with a friend of this here girl you're seeing tonight?"

Well, I'm a buddy, so I gave Betsy a call, and sure enough, one of her room mates didn't have a thing planned for that evening.

Si was really pleased when he heard that, and I was pretty happy, too. He'd been staying in our room night after night, studying his agronomy, and talking to me when I was there and to Old Shep when I wasn't. I figured it would be good for him to get out and see the lighter side of college life. The trouble is, Si saw too damn much.

This sorority sister of Betsy's turned out to be a real sharp cookie. Her name is Nancy Norris and what I mean to say is, Fred, what she hasn't got a girl doesn't need.

She and Si hit it off right away. Some of these sophisticated dolls really go for that country charm.

Well, Nancy turned Si's life upside down. He was with her every night and the only one around to talk to Old Shep in the evening was me. The dog would sit on Si's bed and stare at Si's agronomy books and wonder where the hell his master was. I didn't let on that I knew,because I was afraid the dog might be jealous. Even so, I think he guessed. There was no denying, Shep was a very intelligent animal.

I got a little worried and I told Si as much. I was afraid Nancy was going to get tired of his rural romancing one day soon and when she did that Si would take it hard. As it turned out, I had plenty of reason to be concerned, but not for the reason I thought.

Everything went along fine for about a month. Then one night Si comes in with the evening only about half over and plunks himself down on the bed. You never saw such a sad expression on a guy's face. He sat there for a long while without saying a word. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and I asked him what was eating him.

"Congratulate me, Jack," he said, "I'm going to be a father."

I started to smile and then I realized he wasn't kidding.

"Nancy?" I asked, as if I didn't know.

He nodded.

"Are you sure?!"

"No," he said, sadly, "but she is."

"Wow."

Well right then his eighteen years really began to show, Fred. Not that I'd laugh off a thing like that, myself, you understand, but what I mean is, Fred, he was really scared. He told me how strict his mother was, and what a scandal it would be down home if it ever got out. What I mean to say is, he was really in a spot.

Of course, I'm no authority on things like that, Fred--being such a clean living, moral sort of a guy, myself (please stop laughing, I can hear you all the way from Texas). Anyway, I gave him what little information I had on the subject, wanting to do everything I could to get him out of his predicament, and the poor kid sure was grateful.

First off, he and Nancy rented a couple of bicycles and went riding, cross country. For four days they rode those bikes over the roughest kind of country they could find, but Si would come back at the end of each day sadder looking than before.

On the fifth day, we gave up the bikes and started in on castor oil and quinine. But they didn't work either, and by then I was beginning to feel nearly as desperate as the kid. Things kept looking worse and worse, till finally I told him he'd better be looking for some more professional advice.

"Go to Jenkins' drug store," I told him. "He's a nice old guy. A lot of kids from campus must go to him with the same problem. Just tell him the truth and ask him to give you something to fix her up."

Well, that wasn't such a hot idea, Fred. Jenkins kicked him out on his ear and Si came back burning and I thought for a while he was going to pound lumps on my head, he was that worked up.

"Awright," I said, getting kind of sore myself. "You got yourself into this mess. Let's see you get yourself out."

"That's just what I'll do!" he said, and out he went.

I had a date that night and Si was asleep in the sack when I got back to our room. The next morning, he'd left for his 8 o'clock class before I woke, so I didn't see him until late that afternoon. When he came in, I could see right away something good had happened. I won't say he looked happy, but he was wearing a sort of relieved expression. Turned out some friend had told him about a doctor over in West Falls. Si had gone over to see him, and the doctor said he'd take care of everything for $150.

"Only trouble is," Si said realistically, "I don't have $150 or anything close to it."

I nodded sympathetically. I didn't have to tell him that I didn't either, since I'd put the bite on him for five a couple of days before.

"I could never swing a loan for that kind of money," he said, "and I don't have anything worth hocking."

"How about Shep?" I said, trying to put a smile back into the conversation.

"What?" he asked, but his mind was suddenly far away.

"How about hocking Shep?" I said. "A dog like that must be worth a lot of loot. You're always talking about how smart he is."

It was a pretty poor attempt at humor and Si just sat there staring at Shep for a long, long time. Only his mind was way off somewhere else, and suddenly he stood up with a big smile on his face.

"That's it. Jack," he said, "that's it!"

I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, and Si went to his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper and started writing. When he'd finished, he handed it to me. It was a letter to his father and he told me to read it.

"Dear Dad," it began, "I wrote you yesterday, but something big has happened since then and I just had to let you know about it right away. You know how you used to say the way Shep minded, and took care of things(continued on page 35) Old Shep (continued from page 32) around the farm, and did things no ordinary dog could ever do, he was almost human? Well you just wait till I get home, Dad, and you'll see just how right you were! These professors here at college can do some mighty wonderful things. You remember the Professor Miller I told you about--the animal genetics man? Well, Dad, he's got a new serum he discovered that will make dogs talk. Yes, I said talk! I walked into his laboratory unexpected this afternoon and there he was talking to a Boston bull and a fox terrier! And they were giving him some pretty sharp retorts, too. Well Dad, when he saw me standing there staring at them, he got mad as the dickens and asked me why the hell I didn't knock when I came into his lab? Then he realized I'd actually heard the dogs talking and he kind of quieted down and started treating me real nice. He told me the whole story and tried to make me promise not to tell anybody. You see, he's discovered this new serum, but he doesn't want the news to get out until he has it perfected. Well, Dad, you know I was always one to strike a pretty sharp bargain, and I told that Professor Miller I'd keep his secret on one condition--that he give some of the stuff to old Shep. At first he wouldn't listen to the idea, but finally, realizing it was the only way to make sure I wouldn't say anything to anybody, he agreed. He said he'd give Shep the serum just before the semester ends, so nobody here on the campus will get wise. I'll bring Shep home with me then and nobody here will know the difference. So you can look for a talking dog when I get home. Won't that be something to make the neighbors' eyes pop out?

"Your loving son, "Silas

"P.S. There's one thing I forgot to tell you, Dad. The professor says for a big dog like Shep it will cost $150 to make the serum, but I know you won't mind sending me the money for something so important."

Well, Fred, when I finished reading that letter, I could have used some of the professor's serum myself. I was speechless. I'd heard of an ROTC student in the cavalry who got fifty bucks a month from his old man to "feed his horse," but this was too much!

"Do you think your dad will fall for it?" I asked.

"Sure," said Si. "He believes Shep is as smart as most people and I've never told him a lie before. Least wise, not one like this."

I looked at Shep sitting in the corner. The big dog opened his mouth to yawn and I thought for a moment he was going to say something.

Sure enough, three days later a letter arrived from his dad and in it was a check for the hundred-and-fifty.

You can bet your life Si didn't waste any time getting that worry about Nancy off his mind, and within a week everything was fixed up, and Si was a wiser and more careful boy. There was still one other little problem though and quite a problem it was. Every couple of days Si would get a letter from his dad asking whether Shep had been given the serum yet. He wrote to say he'd bet a neighboring farmer his prize bull that Si was bringing home a talking dog. Si kept writing his dad that Shep wouldn't be getting the serum until just before vacation, but you could tell that his old man was getting pretty anxious. And Si got mighty uneasy as the semester drew to a close. Then, about a week before vacation, he asked me if I wouldn't come home with him and spend the first couple of days with him on the farm, as sort of moral support, until the thing blew over.

"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed, "I don't want your old man to shoot me, too!"

"Aw, Dad wouldn't go and shoot anybody. Come on, Jack, be a pal."

"Nothing doing."

But he kept after me and soft hearted sap that I am, I started feeling real sorry for him, and finally I told him I'd go. But in the meantime, I pointed out, we were going to have to figure out a story about Shep that would satisfy his father.

"Suppose we tell him Shep died from the serum?" I suggested.

Si shook his head.

"You don't know my dad," he said. "He'd be up here after that professor's scalp. And when he found out there wasn't any serum, he'd be after mine!"

Well, Fred, we still hadn't thought of anything when the day came for going home. I had some last minute things to attend to and I got to the station just before train time. I just hoped against hope that something bright would come to us during the trip. I met Si in the club car.

"Did you check Shep in the baggage car?" I asked.

I gave Shep to the Felta Thi's for a mascot," he said.

When I heard that, I was ready to climb off the train, but we were already moving. I sure didn't want to face his father without the dog, whether it could talk or not.

"You're crazy!" I said. "We could have said Shep lost his voice. Your dad might have believed that!"

"No he wouldn't," Si said.

Well, we stayed in the club car the whole trip. We just sat there drinking beer and not saying much of anything. I figured from the things Si had told me that his dad was one rough customer, and I had to give the kid credit for plenty of guts, getting ready to face up to the old guy without the dog.

When the train pulled into his town, I was really nervous, but Si seemed cool as a cucumber. And I wondered right then whether he had some idea he hadn't told me about or whether he was just loaded from all that beer we'd been drinking and didn't give a damn.

At the station, a rather severe, serious looking woman came running across to us and put her arms around Si. His mother, I thought. Then I saw his old man, and I shuddered. He was as big as a barn, and he had that tough, brown, weatherbeaten farmer look. And when he spoke, his voice was like spring thunder--deep and threatening.

"Glad to see you home, son!" he rumbled. And then, I knew it was coming, he looked around sort of quiet, and said, "But where's Shep?"

The way he said "Shep!" sent shivers up my back. You could see that all his farmer friends had been making fun of his story about the dog talking, and right then I was positive that any story Si might have for him, and I didn't even know if he had one, was sure to be useless. But Si motioned his father over to one side, sort of secret-like, out of his mother's ear-shot, and started talking to him in a low voice, real confidential, so no one else could hear. Well, Fred, you know me. I'm no eavesdropper, but after that buildup I just had to know what the kid was telling his dad. I walked over behind a big wagon filled with luggage, where I couldn't be seen, but could still hear them talking. By the time I got close enough, Si had already started explaining.

"I had to do it, Dad," he was saying. "It happened last night, when I was shaving and getting fixed up for a date. Shep was sitting there reading one of your letters, and laughing at the funny spots, when all at once he looks at me, raises his glasses up over his eyes, and says, sober as you please, mind you: Si! I wonder if your old man is still playing around with that hired girl like he was when we left home? I remember one night behind the barn ..."

"Well, Dad, when Shep said a thing like that about you, it made me so damn mad that I took my razor and I cut his throat from ear to ear!"

Si's old man got real red in the face then and he looked over real quick at his wife, but she was standing too far away to hear anything. Then he sort of gulped, and "Son," he said, looking real serious, "you shore done right! But are you positive that dirty ol' liar is dead?"

Your old roommate and pal, Jack.

"Congratulate me, Jack," he said dejectedly, "I'm going to be a father."