E.B. White’s Awesome Letter to the Authorities About His “Harbored” Dog

Novelist E.B. White and his dog, Minnie (at least I think it's Minnie)

Ever had a frustrating situation dealing with authorities and not known how to handle it? Before you have to face this again, you need to check out how novelist E.B. White (of Charlotte’s Web fame, among other works) handled a claim by the New York ASPCA in 1951.

The organization had accused him of “harboring” an unlicensed dog because he allegedly didn’t pay some dog tax. Instead of flinging off an angry response, or cheerfully paying it without a peep, White typed this sweetly funny, gently facetious letter. Talk about a class act. He will be my mentor when life calls for this kind of response in the future — whether or not it pertains to dogs.

Dear Sirs:

I have your letter, undated, saying that I am harboring an unlicensed dog in violation of the law. If by “harboring” you mean getting up two or three times every night to pull Minnie’s blanket up over her, I am harboring a dog all right. The blanket keeps slipping off. I suppose you are wondering by now why I don’t get her a sweater instead. That’s a joke on you. She has a knitted sweater, but she doesn’t like to wear it for sleeping; her legs are so short they work out of a sweater and her toenails get caught in the mesh, and this disturbs her rest. If Minnie doesn’t get her rest, she feels it right away. I do myself, and of course with this night duty of mine, the way the blanket slips and all, I haven’t had any real rest in years. Minnie is twelve.

In spite of what your inspector reported, she has a license. She is licensed in the State of Maine as an unspayed bitch, or what is more commonly called an “unspaded” bitch. She wears her metal license tag but I must say I don’t particularly care for it, as it is in the shape of a hydrant, which seems to me a feeble gag, besides being pointless in the case of a female. It is hard to believe that any state in the Union would circulate a gag like that and make people pay money for it, but Maine is always thinking of something. Maine puts up roadside crosses along the highways to mark the spots where people have lost their lives in motor accidents, so the highways are beginning to take on the appearance of a cemetery, and motoring in Maine has become a solemn experience, when one thinks mostly about death. I was driving along a road near Kittery the other day thinking about death and all of a sudden I heard the spring peepers. That changed me right away and I suddenly thought about life. It was the nicest feeling.

You asked about Minnie’s name, sex, breed, and phone number. She doesn’t answer the phone. She is a dachshund and can’t reach it, but she wouldn’t answer it even if she could, as she has no interest in outside calls. I did have a dachshund once, a male, who was interested in the telephone, and who got a great many calls, but Fred was an exceptional dog (his name was Fred) and I can’t think of anything offhand that he wasn’t interested in. The telephone was only one of a thousand things. He loved life — that is, he loved life if by “life” you mean “trouble,” and of course the phone is almost synonymous with trouble. Minnie loves life, too, but her idea of life is a warm bed, preferably with an electric pad, and a friend in bed with her, and plenty of shut-eye, night and days. She’s almost twelve. I guess I’ve already mentioned that. I got her from Dr. Clarence Little in 1939. He was using dachshunds in his cancer-research experiments (that was before Winchell was running the thing) and he had a couple of extra puppies, so I wheedled Minnie out of him. She later had puppies by her own father, at Dr. Little’s request. What do you think about that for a scandal? I know what Fred thought about it. He was some put out.

Sincerely yours,

E. B. White

Great, right? And here, for a bonus, is a tiny little poem by White. Doxie lovers should especially like it.

The Dachshund’s affectionate
He wants to wed with you:
Lie down to sleep,
And he’s in bed with you.
Sit in a chair,
He’s there.
Depart,
You break his heart.

Source: The letter is from a most interesting website called Letters of Note. The poem is from DogQuotatations.com.

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Authorities Pursuing Heinous Ear Cropper – Used Scissors and Fishing Line

One of the two dogs whose ears were crudely, painfully hacked off with scissors and stitched with fishing line

When you think of small scissors and monofilament line, fishing might come to mind. But these seemingly innocuous items were recently used not for rigging a trout line, but for cutting off the ears of two young Monterey County (Calif.) pit bulls, according to the Sacramento Bee. The dogs, who are now in the custody of the Monterey SPCA, were left with painful infections from the butchering.

The crude surgery is typical of what happens every day to dogs who are getting prepared for a (short) life of dog fighting. The only difference is that law enforcement authorities have some clues about who this abuser is and where they may find him.

Monterey SPCA officials say they suspect a man named Damian Maldonado, who they said performed the surgery while representing himself as a veterinarian. The SPCA has a business card of his. It reads  “El Cartel Bully Kennels,” and has a 209 area code, which is in the Stockton/Modesto region.

So if you’re in this area and you have any ideas who or where this heinous ear cropper might be, call the Monterey SPCA at (831) 373-2631. There’s a $1,000 reward for his arrest and conviction. It’s probably not the first time he’s done this “surgery,” but with any luck, it will be the last.

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