Letter i w i ne
Editor
I would like to tell Pancho’s
many friends and also all the own
ers of dogs in Kodiak what hap
pened to Pancho.
He was a small, stout elderly
dog. He was eleven years old and
horn in Kodiak. I have lived with
him as a constant companion and
friend for the past eight years.
During that time I have expressed
great sorrow and also much hap
piness. Pancho never let me down,
if I cried or was unhappy, the
touch of a small pink tongue on
my cheek was always comforting.
If I was happy, he was delighted.
His bushy white tail would wag,
his long silky ears perk up and his
eyes would sparkle and seem to
say, “Isn’t it a wonderful world
and so good to be alive." Many
times as I have sat reading I would
feel a small soft head gently plac
ed on my foot. I spend a good deal
of time alone and Pancho and 1
have had long conversations. He
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Minstrell & Juelson
talked to me in his own dumb way.
I am sure we have discussed every
thing from the United Nations to
the price of fish.
Last Sunday morning at five
o’clock Pancho nudged me gently
and told me he wanted to go out.
I opened the door for him. The
fresh morning air was lovely with
a hint of spring. I almost wished
I could go for an early morning
walk with him. He looked back
over his shoulder and I know what
he said: “Isn’t it a wonderful
morning for a short walk?” -
Thas was the last I have seen of
my dear good friend!
We learned in a devious man
ner what had happened to him at
the end of four frantic days. We
started by calling the police de
partment. We called them three
times during the four days. It was
always the same answer—“No dogs
have been picked up.” The second
day he was missing we went to the
city pound where the picked up
dogs are kept. He was not there.
I took many walks looking for him.
We took a taxi to Mission Road,
to Mill Bay Road, the housing pro
ject, called the pound at the Base
and even sent a taxi to pick him
up in case he was there. As we
were about to go and search the
City dump a good friend came and
told us what had happened to
. ctncho.
As he had started on his early
morning walk be was picked up
by the police and killed nearly at
once. We inquired why he had not
been kept the three days that is
required by the City ordinance. We
wer told that while Pancho was
being strangled with a wire, he bit
the policeman and soiled the po
liceman’s uniform and car. I am
sure this would be a normal re
action. All of us would probably do
the same if we were being forced
into a strange car with a tignt
wire around our necks. As for the
policeman, there is no visible evi
dence of his having been bitten.
He has continued with his work
and has not seemed incapacitated
in any way.
The police department when con
fronted with this story finally ad
mitted it to be true about what
had happened to my little friend
Pancho.
I would like to have kept the
collar he had worn for years with
his name engraved on it and his
last license tag. It is probably sen
timental but it would have com
forted me.
If he had to be dead; I would
like to think of him resting under
a nice tree (he loved trees). In
stead I have to think of the indig
nity of his being thrown into the
City dump among the refuse and
garbage to be partially burned or
eaten by rats.
It seems hard to think that Pan
cho’s loyalty, devotion, and friend
ship to a human being was repaid
in such a way. In fact it does not
make me very proud to belong to
the human race.
(s) Scotty Tennell
CARD OF THANKS
We -wish to thank the members
of the NAACP, and Mrs. Kizer in
particular, for the many expres
sions of condolences, and the as
sistance given during the recent
death of Mr. Lavallais’ father at
Ellisandrew, Louisiana.
Mr. and Mrs. L. G. Lavallais
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