All our classes were taught by men, with one exception. A required English course was conducted by an elderly, dignified, no-nonsense widow who had taught for decades in Philadelphia public schools. Dr. Dickie was on a mission to teach proper English to men before they ascended the pulpit. My guess is, she had been scandalized one-too-many times by the grammar mistakes of young preachers, so she volunteered to come out of retirement to assist the cause.
Her practice was to bring to class her well-mannered little West Highland Terrier Jolly and tie his leash to one of the front legs of her desk. I suspect she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jolly home alone for several hours, so she had agreed to teach only if he could accompany her. Jolly would snooze calmly by the desk, listening to the grammar lesson with what appeared to be the same level of interest as the rest of us.
Then came the day when my friends Phil and Al brought squirt guns to class, having determined to boldly go where no man had gone before (and where, it could be argued, no wise man has yet gone). They waited patiently through much of the day's lecture until Dr. Dickie rose from her chair and turned to use the blackboard. This was their chance. Seated near each other in the front of the room, they drew their weapons and sent streams of water in Jolly's direction, the squeaking of the squirt guns timed to be drowned out by the sound of scraping chalk. Their intention was evidently to get Jolly barking and cause a disruption, providing us with a brief respite from gerunds and independent clauses.
At first Jolly reacted with only mild curiosity. It seemed he too was thankful for a break from the routine. Without any audible protest, he hopped to his tiny legs and looked around to pinpoint the source of the distraction. From his subdued response an onlooker might have thought (had any onlooker been thinking) that it came as no great surprise to Jolly to be sprinkled in a Presbyterian Seminary. As the occasional carefully timed effusions continued, he appeared to embrace the fun, yipping, wagging his tail and trying to catch the water in his mouth. His restlessness drew some mild rebukes from Dr. Dickie as she continued busy at the blackboard.
