[In
1908 his first publication, "Only a Dog," a brief pathetic tale
recounting the death of a stray dog, appeared in the Beloit Daily
News and won a third prize of two dollars in a Christmas story
contest.]
Only
A Dog was Leo's first published story. Written for a Christmas
Story Contest, it was won third prize and was published in the
The Beloit Daily News. (December 15, 1908, Page 27)
Only
a Dog
By
Edward Edson Lee
Skip
stood near the curb, at the corner of Grand Avenue and State Street
and watched with longing eyes the happy Christmas shoppers. They
were all so happy and joyful: Skip wondered what it all meant.
He could not understand how people could be happy when the air
was so biting cold and things to eat were so hard to find. What
could it mean? He tried to reason it out in dog fashion but failed.
The
gay laughter of the passers-by reminded him of one other cold
night a year ago. He had been attracted by the chiming of the
church bells and had wandered hither to watch the many happy faces
that entered through the door into what was, the Skip, an unknown
region.
They
were all so merry and care free. How miserable, poor, lank Skip
felt. He was only a dog, but somehow he realized that there was
something due, even him at this time of the year.
When
the last of the merry throng had entered, Skip sneaked from the
curb, to the door of the church. What a scene of beauty greeted
his eye. The church was decorated with garlands of green; it seemed
to Skip almost like a real woods.
From
the chandelier, to the far corners of the room, were stretched
streamers of many colors. Many colored lights gleamed all about,
but the most beautiful thing of all, to Skip, was a huge tree
all aglow with tinsel and candles. For a moment he forgot himself
and entered the church. Never before had he seen so much warmth
and beauty. For a moment he forgot that he was not one of the
merry throng; forgot that he was a dog; he tried to press forward
when he received a kick from a masculine foot and the door was
shut in his face.
With
a snarl he turned and trotted away. He was only a dog; yes, only
a dog and not to be considered at this great time of merry making.
He felt the line that was drawn between himself and the two-footed
creatures that called themselves men. They had cast him from their
joy because he was only a dog.
All
this had happened a year ago, but it was fresh in his memory and
he realized that it was all to occur again. He could see the signs
of its coming upon the faces of the people passing by. It was
all a puzzle to him He could not understand it. Poor Skip, he
was only a dog and could never know of Bethlehem, with its shining
star and new born king.
"O!
Papa! See the poor doggie." The sound of a childish voice
caused Skip to turn. A large automobile had stopped at the curbing
and a little girl was descending to the walk, holding the hand
of an elderly man. Her pretty little face as almost concealed
amid soft, white furs.
The
man glanced at Skip with a kindly face. "Poor dog,"
he said more to himself than to the child. "What a shame
that animals are left to suffer."
"Can
I take the doggie home with me, papa?"
"We
can hardly do that, pet," the man answered smilingly. "But
I will see that something is done for him." He motioned to
a policeman standing near.
"Take
this," he said, thrusting a silver dollar in the hand of
the guardian of the law, "and buy the animal something to
eat. He is so thin he looks almost famished. It is a shame and
a disgrace to the city that such a spectacle of starvation be
permitted to roam the streets. Whom does he belong to?"
"A
stray, sir," the policeman answered as he grasped the fragment
of collar about the neck of Skip. "There are many such, sir.
They belong to no one and they have no home. This one has been
about for years."
"And
how does he live; does no one feed him?"
The
policeman shook his head. "He picks up a few scraps, sir."
While
the two men had been speaking, the child approached Skip and began
to stroke his bony back. At first he had almost been tempted to
snap at her; he did not understand this kindness; he had always
been used to kicks and blows.
"Poor
doggie," the child said over and over again, and she gave
him a farewell pat as the policeman led him away.
"What
is the man going to do with him papa?"
"He
is going to feed him and give him a place to sleep, tonight at
leas; tomorrow I will start an investigation and some one will
be brought to account for this display of cruelty." The child
scarcely understood what the man was saying; he was speaking as
to an elder.
The
policeman led Skip away from the busy thoroughfare, and into an
alley. He glanced about him and finding he was unobserved, he
put the dollar into his pocket, gave Skip a kick in the ribs,
and turned back to his beat. "Easy money," he chuckled
to himself.
Poor
Skip! He sneaked out of sight as quickly as possible He did not
understand what had occurred. How could he? He was only a dog.
He
lay beneath the friendly shelter of a pile of old boxes, long
after the policeman had gone. He side hurt where he had received
the kick, and he treated it freely with his tongue. How hungry
he was. It almost made him feel weak and useless. He longed for
it to get dark, so he could roam about unmolested. He closed his
eyes, and no doubt took a nap, for when he opened them, the lights
of the city were burning all about him. He crawled from his nest,
across the alley out into the street and into another alley. How
well he knew it! There was a savory smell in the air that seemed
to Skip about the nearest thing to a dog heaven that could possibly
be. It was the back door of the restaurant.
He
started to make an investigation of the piles about him, but a
growl in the dark caused him to flee in alarm. Bruno, the large,
black dog he so much feared, was ahead of him and he knew it was
either fight or flight. Skip was no fighter, so he quickly decamped.
He searched in other places but found little to eat. Ho hungry
and miserable he felt. He sneaked out upon the street and once
again heard the merry chiming of the bells as they pealed forth
their Christmas greeting. How he hated them! He turned and ran
as fast as he could in the other direction. Away from the busy
streets he ran and when he paused he found himself surrounded
by towering houses, aglow with many lights.
He
had never been here before and he vaguely wondered if there could
be anything lying about loose that would help to fill the stomach
of a hungry dog. He cautiously approached the rear of one of the
houses. He paused before a high board fence. The back yard was
enclosed. He found the gate but it was latched.
While
he was skulking in the shadows he heard voices upon the other
side of the fence and the gate was opened by two women. They were
servants and were going out for a good time after their day's
work. They were laughing and talking and thus enabled Skip to
slip through the gate unobserved. Skip gave a satisfied growl
when he at last found himself inside the fence. He glanced about
him Lights gleamed from the windows above and he felt a curiosity
to know what was going on.
He
climbed upon the porch and by bracing himself he could see into
the room. To him it was the same old story; the merry laughter,
the happy faces, the tree, the candles. But one thing was different
and that was the little child who was dancing about the room.
It was the little girl he had seen that afternoon, the only human
being who had ever given him a kindly pat. He dropped from the
window and sank out of sight in the shadows. He crawled to the
fence but the gate was locked. Back he went to the window and
once more beheld the happy scene. With a whine he turned away
his head and lay down upon the steps. How weak and hungry he felt.
He eyes closed and he curled himself into a ball. The clock in
the distance chimed the house, but he noted them not. He was asleep.
***
The
next morning the butler opened the side door and saw lying before
him a mass of tangled and dampened fur. He gave it a kick, but
it did not move. "Dead," he said in disgust, as he kicked
it from the porch. "Nothing but a dog."