Hounding the Public : Precocious Poodle Pup Takes Pen in Paw to Pester People With Postal Pap
I THOUGHT WE HAD received every conceivable kind of junk mail, but Catherine A. Von der Ahe of San Juan Capistrano reports a new one, and it is perhaps the ultimate.
Like most of us who have lived at the same address for more than six months, Von der Ahe is on many mailing lists. “I have been inundated with junk mail: great buys that will never come my way again, pleas for donations to causes I have never heard of, wonderful prizes I have won. . . .”
To lighten this avalanche, she decided never to open a letter that did not have a 25-cent stamp glued to it. The piece in question did, however, have a stamp on it, and she opened it to find what she considers the most improbable offer ever.
First, the letter noted that she had been selected for the enclosed free sample--a letter from Coquette, said to be an 18-pound, 10-month-old jet-black French poodle.
Von der Ahe read the letter with growing incredulity. It was written in large block letters:
“Hi! We haven’t met, so let me introduce myself. My name is Coquette (that’s French) ‘cause I’m a French poodle. My hair is very kinkly and jet black. I weigh about 18 pounds and when I stand on my hind legs I can put my front paws on the dining room table. The two friends that I live with (Blanche and Paul) don’t really like it when I stand like that at the table--but I love to, especially when they are having my favorite crackers and cheese.
“I don’t know how true it is, but I heard the vet telling my friends last time I went for ‘shots’ that we poodles are very intelligent. I guess you have (seen) many poodles doing hard tricks on TV or at the circus. I don’t do any tricks but I play a lot with an old slipper that Paul gave me.
“I would like to write again and more next time--maybe another whole page! But this (is) just a ‘hello for now’ letter. COQUETTE.”
The introductory letter advised Von der Ahe that she is “an important member of our test group to introduce a letter-of-the-month from her (Coquette) to youngsters. Each letter will be personalized by name to the designated young person.
“Coquette’s letters will relate to boys and girls from 4 to 10 years of age. They will be full of puppy antics, growing-up situations, learning to relate to humans and neighbor pets, coping with the environment, and especially having fun. The letters will also be tastefully inspirational.”
The price of this monthly letter (plus a birthday greeting on the child’s birthday) is $22.50 a month. Suppose they get only 100 subscribers. That’s $2,250 a month--not a bad income for a 10-month-old poodle.
However, if that sample letter is typical of those to follow, I’m afraid that Blanche and Paul have failed to exploit a golden opportunity. They must have gone to a lot of trouble to teach Coquette to write, but all they can coax out of her is that utterly childish pap.
If I could have taught my Airedale to write, he would have written something like this:
“Hi, kid! Being just a kid, you will probably understand me. We’re both treated like dogs. Our masters pat us on the head and tell us to be good. They tell us when to eat and what to eat. I don’t know about you, but I get the same disgusting gruel every day. They try to teach me tricks, as if I had no dignity. They keep me confined to a small yard when I want to run through the neighborhood.
“They talk to me in baby talk. Or dog talk. I don’t know which is worse. When I try to express myself with body language or sounds, they tell me, ‘Down!’ or ‘Quiet!’ They obviously think of me as a pet. The only reason they have taught me to write is so they can make money off me.
“Worst of all--and you may not believe this--they have had me operated on so that I am robbed of my sex potential. What right did they have to do that? Whatever you do, kid, don’t let your parents do that to you.
“We have a lot in common, and I hope to be hearing from you soon. Blanche and Paul will probably read your letter to me. They haven’t taught me to read yet. They probably don’t want me to know that they’re spending all the money I’m making by writing these letters.
“Remember, kid-- Illegitimati non carborundum !”
We no longer have children in our house, but if I thought we could get a straight-from-the shoulder letter like that from a dog, I’d be happy to subscribe.
