Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.2 9/18/84; site ut-sally.UUCP Path: utzoo!watmath!clyde!bonnie!akgua!whuxlm!harpo!decvax!genrad!panda!talcott!harvard!ut-sally!crandell From: crandell@ut-sally.UUCP (Jim Crandell) Newsgroups: net.bizarre Subject: Dog story (not new but true) Message-ID: <2858@ut-sally.UUCP> Date: Tue, 10-Sep-85 14:00:48 EDT Article-I.D.: ut-sally.2858 Posted: Tue Sep 10 14:00:48 1985 Date-Received: Thu, 12-Sep-85 11:12:25 EDT Reply-To: crandell@sally.UUCP (Jim Crandell) Organization: U. Texas CS Dept., Austin, Texas Lines: 63 [This could be Bizzarre Gazzette material, except that it's not news (at least by most standards), since it happened a few years ago. But it was a good story, if you like this sort of thing.] There was a certain kennelman who did a fair amount of breeding (got too familiar, that's what it was), and not necessarily on the side. In fact, I sorta think he was a breeder who ran a kennel on the side. (Actually, the kennel may have been in back, and not on the side at all. I've forgotten. But who gives a flip, anyway?) This guy raised, among other things, black Labs. On Saturday nights, he probably found something else to raise, and if I had to guess, I'd guess it probably didn't have much to do with dogs, possibly excepting the rather natural association one might be inclined to note upon recognizing that dogs have been known to raise a little of their own, now and then. But I'm guessing. Anyhow, one of the black Labs, a youngster of about six months or so, began to feel poorly one day. Off his feed an' stuff like that. And he sounded sorta funny when he walked. The breeder did the sensible thing and took the poor pup to the vet. The doc put the sick pooch on the examining table, looked him over carefully, and prodded his underside in a few revealing places, eventually suggesting that the dog's midsection ought to be X-rayed. Now, it's an odd coincidence, but the breeder had noticed something mighty strange going on around the kennel over the past several days. Anyone who runs a business like that can tell you that you need a certain amount of security in your physical plant; there are numerous things that you just have to lock up. This ol' boy's primary defense against the problems which occasion that state of affairs consisted of a collection of good old solid brass padlocks, diligently applied. What was strange was that a few of the locks had disappeared, and the breeder just couldn't figure out where they were going. He felt that he knew all the people who worked for him well enough to rule out one obvious possibility, and the prospect of outside pilferage didn't seem very likely, either. The locks weren't being removed from locked doors; the ones that vanished were always idle at the time, and generally not locked. Another unusual aspect of the crimes was that the keys were never stolen. This was especially hard to explain, because as I recall, the place was nowhere near College Station. Meanwhile, back at the vet clinic, the doc had hauled the unfortunate animal into an adjoining room and strapped him down (or whatever it is they do with them) between the X-ray machine and a film frame. A couple of exposures and a processing operation later, the vet squinted at the films and laid the mystery to rest, confirming everyone's worst suspicions. Next stop: the operating room. It seems there are some things a stomach pump just shouldn't be expected to do, and a surgeon has to do some of them. The vet slithered the pup's belly open and, over the course of several minutes, proceeded to remove -- let's see now, how many were there? -- at least seven or eight solid brass padlocks from it. The operation came off without a hitch and the poor Lab didn't feel a thing (well, at least he didn't say anything about it). The vet, as I recall, didn't attempt to postulate an explanation for the dog's odd behavior. A dietary defiency of copper seemed, he thought, rather implausible. The breeder's explanation, on the other hand, made quite a bit of sense, at least to a dog. ``He just liked the way they chew,'' the kennelman reflected, ``and when he'd get tired of chewin' one, he'd swallow it.'' -- Jim Crandell, C. S. Dept., The University of Texas at Austin {ihnp4,seismo,ctvax}!ut-sally!crandell