Evening star., 1934-07-29
/ The
{ Ghost
Dog Of
Sunnybank
By
! Albert
! Peyson Ierhune

N SAW a dreary farce comedy in London
years ago. a play called "Thark," the dull
ness of which tinged by one mild
flash Of dialogue An elderly bore Is
trying to persuade his nephew there are
such things ghosts. He asks in
challenge:
Ever see a ghost?"
mot yet" is the wary answer
did you ever know any one who had seen
O ghost?"
"No-o-o But everybody whom I know has
known somebody who's seen one"
In tackling ghost stories of any kind the
teller lays himself wide open to the charge
of lying or of loose mental gear. Dog ghost
stories are tenfold more vulnerable to ridicuie
than are those of white-robed wraiths with
clanking chains and eerie glmmer
So am going to start in by refusing to ex-
press any personal belief or disbelief. And
i am not going to tell of anything myself
have seen or thought / saw. The testimony
that follows is to be wholly objective. shall
begin with Sunnybanks one alleged ghost. So
let's go;
/ HAD a big cross-bred dog Rex, whose
father was a collie and whose mother was
a bull terrier Rex was larger than either OF
his parents He was almost the size Of
Great Dane, short-haired and fawn- -colored,
with jagged scar across his foreface The scar
was acquired in battle
The big cross-bred was a lovable chap in
many ways Also he was the only short-haired
dog, the only non-coslie dog, on the place.
From puppyhood he was slavishly devoted
to me- He would lie for hours at my feet
staring up into my faee-a doubtful pleasure at
best. If moved to chair in some other part
of the room he would get up quietly and follow
me lying down again close to my feet.
1t was the same at meals. Rex was not al
lowed in the dinning room So always he went
out on the veranda and stood looking in at
me through the long French windows just be-
hind my chair. There he stood, never stirring,
until the meal was ended.
He used to lie in one particular spot in
the hallway just outside my study door while
1 at work. 1t not only his favorite
resting place at such times, but his only rest
ing place. You will see presently why have
dwelt so long on these petty details.
In March, 1916. Rex was killed. Perhaps
few of you may have read of his death and
of the drama which led up to it in my book,
Lad A Dog"
In the Summer of 1917 my lifelong friend
and college claSSmate, the Rev. Appleton Gran
mis- came back from sojourn in the West In
early times Grannis often had been loved
and welcome guest at Sunnybank but he had
not been tnefe IN some years. SOOU dIteI Ills
return to the East he visited
One hot afternoon he and I were sitting at
opposite ends of the dining room table, trying to
counteract the heat with cold ale and chatting
of old times As usual sat with my back to
the long veranda window. We were leaving
the room when Grannis said to me:
Il thought knew all your dogs. But there's
one of them I never saw till this afternoon.
The big dog with the short fawn-colored coat
and a welt Of a scar across his nose. Which
one is hep
We have no short-haired dogs at Sunny
bank told him. And no dog with SCARED
foreface"
But this deg has been standing just out
side the window staring in at you all the time
were were there" he protested. He never took
his eyes from you. He's gone now. Which of
your dogs is he?"
Il don't know made answer with
tire truthfulneSs.
Another close friend of ours. Henry A. Healy,
used to drop in often at Sunnybank. He owned
a model farm and he was keenly interested in
problems of cross breeding Thus he had
made more or less q study of Rex a freak
example of mixed breed traits Rex like all our
other dogs was fond of him.
ONE evening in the Autumn of 1918 Healy
~ and his pretty wife dine6 with us After
ward We sat lazily in the freight for en- hour
or two AS the guests were starting for home.
Healy said:
Bert, I, wish there were some creature as
utterly devoted to Rex is to YOU I've