Evening Star Newspaper, June 6, 1937, Page 89

June 6, 1937 THIS WEEK - Phooey to Babies! by JOHN B. DURANT Nivstroted by Pael Bransom RIP SNIFFED AT THE CHUBBY LITTLE FIST HeE washing machine racketed s~ for a second in the kitchen and then settled down to a steady hum. Rip’s breath came fast and his heart pounded against ribs, for he knew he was going to do some- thing that he was not allowed to do. He was going to enter the forbidden room. Why not? With his master away at work, and mistress busy washing no one would ever know he had even been in the bedroom. Rip’s paws padded noiselessly over the hall rugs and the carpeted stairs; he took a last peek through the balus- trade to make sure the kitchen door was still closed before his nose slid through the half-open bedroom door and came to a point on the crib where lay the thorn in his heart. Motionless, Rip inhaled the warm human odor of that being who had come between him and the affection of his master. So it was for that insignificant little thing his master now spanked him when he barked in the house and his mistress pushed him outdoors because she did not want him in the way when she was busy washing and feeding It. No one any longer had time to give him a good scrubbing down or fix him up a tasty dish. Rip. his short legs very stiff and his brown coat bristling, slowly advanced upon the crib and pushed his quivering nose through the bars to sniff at the chubby fist flung out on the quilt. Indignation grew more intense against that useless little snipe sleeping so peacefully. Bitterly Rip recalled the first day It had come home. That was the day that, when he had jumped up on the bed to lick its red face, his mistress had yanked him off by the tail, yanked so hard the tears ran from his eyes and he had been unable to sit down for a week. But that was nothing to what had happened to him when his master came home from work and found that he had chewed off those funny little rubber balls from the bottles and drunk up the warm milk in them. His master, his boon companion, had not v L 4 only booted him outdoors but when Rip, after an hour of baying his troubles to the moon, had scratched at the door for readmittance, his mas- ter had doused him with a bucket of ice water from the bedroom window. Rip’s sides heaved with the effort of trying to solve the riddlie why so much fuss over something that could do nothing except eat, sleep and cry. Why, he, Rip, could do all sorts of things: sit up, speak, roll over and play dead, balance a lump of sugar on the end of his nose, and turn somer- saults. Unaware that his mistress was tip- toeing upstairs to see that her little darling was covered up, Rip continued to gaze in mournful speculation at the being who was turning his world up- side down. Suddenly a broom fetched down smartly on his rump and a feminine voice, sharp with anger, cut into his ear: *‘Rip, you naughty dog, you'’ve gone and slobbered all over the quilt Aunt Agatha made. Now, you clear out, and stay out.” A second sweeping motion of the broom cleared Rip through the doorway and down the stairs on his wounded dignity. To be struck by a broom, that was the adding of insult to injury. He'd run away from home — that was what he’d do. Then his master would find out soon enough which was better, a dog for a iriend or a ‘‘baby.” Salvaging what was left of his dig- nity, he stalked out of the kitchen, and started up the street. Rip's head was high and his tail out straight as he began his farewell journey, but his eyes were troubled and his steps were slow. From time to time he would stop and swivel his head around to see if perhaps his mistress wasn’t standing on the front-door steps, waving for him to come back and make up. When the familiar white house that had always been his home disappeared from sight and there was no friendly wave, no cheery call, Rip’s proud bear- ing left him, along with his desire to run away. His ears drooped, his head drooped, his tail, curved so haughtily when he left home, drooped until it furrowed the dust. Only stubborn pride kept him from turning back as he mooched up the street to the rail- road station. The concrete platform was deliciously cool. In the distance, a long hoot and the tremble of power along the steel rails as a freight rumbled over the crossing, made Rip raise his head from between his paws. Then, all the smoldering indignation against the cruelty of a faithless world burst into a flame of hatred against this monster thunder- ing down upon him. Rip’s tail became a rigid line moving parallel to the ground as he trotted forward to begin the mortal cambat. With pistons driving and bell clang- ing, the locomotive boomed past the station, and with one exultant yelp Rip tore after it. His feet churned back the road bed and he passed from sight as his muscular body shot into the tornado of dust sucked along beneath the train. He was deafened by the clattering roar of steel pounding against steel; metal discs spun close to his teeth, hot drops of water spat against his nose, and the rushing wind pinned back his ears, sandblasted his MAMAICONE(IK, New York, has about tTHINKf::gtfl Mogazine Section 11 eyes and throat. He was lost behind the swaying body that hulked over him. The last piece of paper had fluttered back on the track, the cloud of dust resettled and the caboose rattled from sight around the bend before Rip skidded to a halt on his haunches. Then, with a happy grin, a last tri- umphant bark, his tail perched on high, he trotted with a light but lordly step back to his adopted home, the railroad station. He had come, seen and conquered. Life wasn't 8o bad after all. With a sigh of con- tentment Rip stretched out in the sun for a nap. Babies? Phooey to Babies! The End material were used effectively. 13,500 people. Everyone agreed there were (00 many motor accidents, but nobody did anything about it. Then a local service club led the way. Once leadership and enthusiasm were supplied, the Village Manager, the Mayor, the Village Board, the schools, the churches, the merchants, gladly joined the movement and the whole village observed a “Safety Week.” A supply of Metropolitan safety posters, booklets, short talks, news- paper items, a sound film and other SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL CILTILUT I LD E DD DL L) PSS S CITY New Orleans, La., reduced Traffic Deaths over 24% in 1936 METROPOLITAN LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY Frenerick H. Ecker, Chairman of the Board ONE MaD1SON AVENUE, NEw Yomrk, N. Y. Please send me, without obligation, a copy of your booklet, "How to Promote Community Safety.” ADDRESS STATE — The village record for traffic accidents during the following month was 75 per cent lower than for any of the preceding three months. The police report that the people are driving with greater respect for the rules of the road. Regardless of the size of your com- munity, a local safety movement may help save lives. Will your club help? The new booklet, “How to Promote Community Safety,” tells how to help organize effectively. Write for a copy. SAFETY MOVEMENT LERoY A. LiNCOLN, President onperrvoncsosEnRanseanDel 'W-637 8 w617 8 Copyright, 1937, by Metropolitan Life lnxurance Company