“MUGGINS,” EX-OUTLAW, TARGET FOR
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New Orleans, La., June 19. – Jack Jungmeyer, writing in the States, says: Up to the time “Muggins” left the alleys of Wrangell, Alaska – in disgrace—for a mining camp on the mainland nine miles away, he was a no-count dog. His instincts were right, being a spaniel, but his environment very bad. Something in his shaggy breast told him that he had been cut out for great adventures in the heightening forests and along the shores where the wildfowl drifted. Instead, conditions had made him a loafer about saloons and refuse cans. He was cursed and kicked. He stole and begged. And finally, when the hunting instinct that would not be denied got too strong, “Muggins” became a real outlaw by killing chickens. Whole Town His Enemy, Shame seized him, but they urged to do something more exciting than slinking about saloons overcame his repentance. He backslid some more, until guns stood loaded for him, and all the housewives in Wrangell were banded together for his destruction. He was a depraved and surly brute when Mrs. “Napoleon” Sprague, a sixty-year-old mine guard over on the Alaska Garnet Mining Company’s property on the Stickine River, found “Muggins” and decided to give him a new chance. Now he could hunt ptarmigan, duck, and grouse; could try his cunning with mink; sniffed with delicious thrills the trail of deer and bear and rolled unrebuked in the bark mold under fir and cedar. Possessed New DignityThere was a new note in the challenge he lifted at the moon and the gleaming northern lights. In him grew a new dog dignity. From outcast he had become the petted and respected companion of purposeful men and a wonderful stern-gentle woman of the forest.
Ranging along the river one day he saw a strange, shiny black creature swimming about lazily. It was a baby seal, mewing plaintively; an outcast from his herd, or a stray adventurer. For one red instant “Muggins” knew again the desire to slay, as he had the chickens. Then he remembered what the stern-gentle woman had been teaching him for the past few months – lessons in living and let live. And the hair on his neck went flat again. Made Playmate of SealThe dog and the baby seal became strange play-fellows. Once Mrs. Sprague, watching him from the cookhouse, saw the dog swim into the stream, saw the seal grasp the spaniel’s tail in its mouth and allow the latter to pull him ashore. And “Muggins” was grinning a doggish laugh.
Judged by his past, “Muggins” should have killed the seal. But “Muggins” had learned a joy that was better than the killing lust.
The good people of St. Michael’s trading post had a scrawny little outcast kitten they didn’t want. Mrs. Sprague, the stern-gentle lady, brought it over to the wilderness camp as she had “Muggins.”
The kitten was dirty, unkempt and a whiner. “Muggins” hated her with a fierce enmity. He wanted to choke that whine in her skinny neck. But once again, as the hair on his shoulders began to lift, he felt the more powerful restraint of his new dignity and self-respect. Judged by his past, he should have killed her, but he had acquired standards of sportsmanship.
Adopted Her Instead “Muggins” was too strong to attack the weak. Elemental compassion stirred in his shaggy breast. He adopted the kitten as his especial charge, and woe the creature that attempted to hurt her. That was three years ago.
From an outcast and thief “muggings” became protector of the weak and broke down many as ancient feud between his kind and the other creatures of the wild. It was his way of responding to kindness.
Many a boy would like to have “Muggins’” chance to shake off a shameful and perhaps criminal past and to start all over again where there is real work to do; real friends to be made and no one to call up weaknesses and spotted pedigrees.
Even a dog will respond to new environmental and confidence.
June 1915 Washington Post
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