Walking across the field of green, taking a short cut to his college office with his mind elsewhere he stepped in a slightly large pile of dog poop. He stopped, looked down and said, “I’ve got to get me another dog.” Almost an hour later he sat at his desk waiting for his first student of the day, with queries about English Heritage volunteer Rick Berry. A “staggering array of witches marks” had been discovered . . . and Berry was getting all the PR.
There was often nothing more he was more interested in than historical marks carved into walls by witches in England and America’s New England states; that and cute female college students. The “Staggering Array” was on his mind, until new student Melissa Conroy tapped on his office door and entered. He smiled and she smiled and then she wrinkled her nose and said, “What stinks?” The professor had been lost in reading about someone else’s witches, when he should have been considering the poop on his own shoe first.
The professor came to his senses and said, “My shoes! I stepped into poo this morning and have been trying to concentrate on witches ever since. I need something to counter my friend’s super find. Melissa thought for a second or two before commenting. My aunt is a “dedicated” witch or so says my uncle. She has black luck that has never failed her on any consideration from dogs to magic spells. She lives in Western Washington instead of here in Eastern Washington. The professor quickly jumped in with a question, “Is she really a witch?” She answered, “So my uncle says.” The professor didn’t laugh. He was grasping at straws and handy wipes.
Melissa was waiting at the professor’s office when he arrived the next Monday. “Stunner is the dog you want for stud. My aunt Rita says he was available for $2000 in light red about six months ago, but the buyer died. You are in luck. Your new dog is still growing and will give you a lite red labrador retriever. They call him Danger Boy. I think I can get him for only $1500. I can drive over immediately and get him back to you in about a week. The cost? $3000 with collar, chain, a dog brush, and delivery.” The professor knew he was being taken for a little ride, but didn’t have the time to argue. He wanted to get moving and conquer all ASAP.
Six months later Professor Langsten was on top of the world. His impressive buddy was being pelted with insults and more insults. Melissa had come back from the Spanaway area via a stop near the Columbia River in Eastern Washington and declared some great news: that dogs from centuries ago along the river were similar in look, a rock-carved similar way, to Danger Boy.
The professor was getting excellent PR. He was selling stud services from Danger Boy and he, himself, was getting articles written about him.
He wrote them of course and Melissa signed them, but they sure brightened up the day for Professor Langsten.
