Ruffly Speaking

side, overheard and interjected, “Ivan’s a little beyond picture books. Aren’t you, Ivan? He just finished The Call of the Wild. And not the abridged version, either.”
    Critics complain about Jack London’s anthropomorphism or claim that he portrayed dogs not as they are, but as we wish they were. I disagree. I love Jack London. What’s more, I know the secret of his power. Jack London did write about dogs as they are: In their hearts, they are exactly as we wish them to be. No other writer has ever captured that identity with London’s passion.
    “My mother says that it’s an example of anthropomorphism,” Ivan said, “because Buck thinks and remembers and everything, so he isn’t really a dog. He’s more like a person.”
    “What do you think?” I asked.
    “I think he’s a dog,” Ivan said.
    “I do, too. And I always cry at the end.”
    “I didn’t,” said Ivan, stiff-jawed.
    “You did so, Ivan,” one of the girls told him. “I saw you.
    “Everybody has feelings.” Leah spoke in the sanctimonious tone of progressive education. “So everybody gets to cry. Everybody feels sad sometimes, so everybody gets to cry. It’s all right.”
    In lieu of responding to Leah, at least directly, Ivan trained those violet-blues on me and demanded, “Did you know that people have only twenty-three pairs of chromosomes? But dogs have thirty-nine.”
    “I did know that,” I said. “Impressive, huh?”
    “The chromosomes are in pairs, and so are the genes on the chromosomes, and if both the genes are just the same, in a pair, then that’s homozygous, and if they... if the genes are both recessive... if they’re homozygous recessive, then you see it! Like blue eyes, at least in people. And the way you remember that is easy, and that’s that it takes two to tango! And if one of the genes is dominant and the other’s recessive, then all you see is the dominant, like brown eyes, in people, but the gene for blue is still there! You just can’t see it. And the way you remember that is because nobody’s asked it to dance! It just has to sit there, because—”
    “Because it takes two to tango,” I said. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.”
    “Neither did Matthew,” Ivan said, shaking his head. “Until I explained it to him,” he added.
    “Ivan, you aren’t getting to the undercoat.” I handed him a wire slicker. “What you need to do is sort of part the hair, like this. You’re right-handed, so you hold back a section with your left hand, and then you just brush out a little bit at a time. Okay? Only be careful not to scratch Rowdy’s skin or your hand with the wire bristles. Good! That’s it!”
    “This isn’t very fascinating,” Ivan said morosely. “Well, it doesn’t have to be done all that often,” I told him. “And maybe you’d like it better if you’d got one of Rowdy’s sides or something. Maybe you can get someone to swap with you.”
    “No one’s going to trade something good. Mee Lee got the head.” He glared at her. “She sucks up to everyone.”
    “Mee Lee is doing a very good job, and she’s tall enough to reach. But you’re right. She is lucky. Almost anyone would rather get the head than—”
    “Than a stupid dog bottom.” Ivan transferred the glare from Mee Lee to me. “Anyone,” he said, “would really rather get the whole dog.”
    A kid worth a full-page spread. I’m afraid you’ll have to imagine the photo, but otherwise?
     
    Ivy League Kennels
    (“Bred To Think/Born To Talk”)
    Proudly Introduces
    IVAN FLYNN-ISAACSON
    Eyes Clear Violet-Blue Prelim. IQ (9 years) Staggering
     
“The Terrible” is pictured taking Best Junior Mind at the Avon Hill Summer Specialty under respected judge Holly Winter. Already pointed, Ivan exhibits quality, type, soundness, and creativity—he has it all! And he’s a personality-plus kid, too! Watch for him! He’s a winner!
     
    Exclusively Handled By:
    HarvardUniversity Kennels
    Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138
    “Registered Professors’ Brats Since 1636”
     

18
     
     “So for once,” Rita conceded, “a dog is probably not a bad idea.”
    Every child deserves a dog, but a child worth a full-page ad? A boy who’s lost his father? And who’s getting himself in trouble instead of getting himself in the ribbons for junior handling? I’d arrived home from the grooming demo at Avon Hill convinced that Ivan was a kid worth not just any dog, either, but worth a stellar representative of