When I was very young, I was enamored with the film Old Yeller. There were Disney animated films at this time, but they weren't the frequent audio-visual market-controlling dominations that they are now. This was long before Beauty & the Beast, Aladdin, and Pixar Studios. Disney's old live-action films still made frequent visits to the small screen, and there was always the Sunday Night Disney TV show. Like many, I was driven to tears by the conclusion of Old Yeller, but I kept returning to viewings of it anyway. It wasn't because of any sort of experience with dogs. At this particular time of my life, aged 7 or 8, the family had one dog for a short period of time that I don't remember being all that fond of.
A wiener dog named Hunts.
There are family stories about this pooch. Like the time my Mom left the house, and driving away from the family home, she glanced into the rear-view and spotted Hunts chasing her car from behind. After Ma had locked up, Hunts had bashed out what Wisconsinites call a "screen window" in the bathroom, made a jump that would have killed an ordinary dog, and began chasing my mom's car.
He was an irritating beast. I seem to remember him being a lazy sort, who lay about, I think with a monocle on, barking at people with a German accent. (this may be my imagination speaking) He was like a Dachshund Colonel Klink. As I said, I don't remember liking him much, but occasionally the son of one of my parent's friends named Gibby (I don't think he went on to be the famous Gibby from the Butthole Surfers, but of this I can't be certain) always acted like the dog was his. That pissed me off. Hunts was a Nazi dog, but he was our Nazi dog.
The true family dog was yet to come, the legendary Ginger.
I digress, but that's a story I must get to eventually.
Old Yeller was a favorite film of mine, but this was way pre-VCR. The best I could do to revisit the classic was by reading (or having read to me) Walt Disney's America, one volume of a 1961 4-volume Wonderful World of Disney hardcover book set, one that I had inherited from a sibling somewhere along the line. One of America's chapters was the literary breakdown of the Yeller saga. The book also included the sequel, Savage Sam, which didn't tickle my fancy nearly as much. I loved having my parents read the tale of Yeller and his family and their frontier life, before the immovable object of Yeller's impending doom darkened the horizon. The pictures of Yeller, consumed with Rabies terrified me. My mind equated it as some sort of demonic possession, and that beautiful Retriever mutt was the last creature on Earth deserving of that terrible fate. My folks did a great job explaining why the end was the way it had to be, but it didn't stop the tears from flowing.
America dominated the other books in the series, which were Fantasyland, Worlds of Nature, and Stories from Other Lands. This Volume contained, besides Yeller: Ben & Me, Johnny Appleseed, & The Shaggy Dog, among others. It was a great book for parents to read to kids right before bed. Just enough text and great pictures to look at. I wish I had still had my copy when my kids were growing up.
It was, among others in this blog series, a book I returned to time and time again when I was at that age just before I was able to read. I wish I knew what it was about this era that continually draws me back. Maybe it is because that time period was the safest I've ever felt. Maybe its just before the true drama of life made itself known. (which it would very shortly)
Maybe the earlier days of all media were simply just better.
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