Black Dog

[David Casseres]

Friends of mine worked in a small-town emergency room back around
1980.  From time to time, the ambulance would bring in someone whose
car had gone off the road in the middle of the night, and quite often
the story told was "There was a dog on the road and I swerved so I
wouldn't hit it."

When asked to describe the dog, the victim would always give the same
answer: "It was a black dog.  A big black dog."

On 2/19/06, jbor at bigpond.com <jbor at bigpond.com> wrote:
> And it's one of the "Apparitions" which Chas and Jere run across on
> South Mountain:
>
> http://waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l&month=0205&msg=66813
>
> http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/1422/s_yow.html
>
> [...] "Gents, we are all agreed," the Overseer greets them, "'tis the,"
> whis-
> pering for the first time since they've known him, "Black Dog." (494)
>
> best
>
> On 19/02/2006, at 10:43 PM, Erik T. Burns wrote:
>
> > full article is behind the NYT costwall.
> > http://cttrips.blogspot.com/is the blog cited. has a facsimile of the
> > elder pynchon's article.
> > etb
> >
> > --------------------------------------------------------------------
> > ----
> > And You Thought a Black Cat Was Bad Luck
> > Our Towns
> > By Peter Applebome
> > 19 February 2006
> > The New York Times
> >
> > MERIDEN, Conn. -- THE most famous account of the mysterious Black Dog
> > of the Hanging Hills hinges on this portentous declaration: ''It may
> > seem strange that a man of science should believe a thing of this kind
> > -- an idle tale for the ignorant and superstitious, you will say --
> > but I do believe it. And if you would know why, listen:''
> >
> > And thus commences a tale told more than a century ago by one W. H. C.
> > Pynchon. It concerns a dog, the color of ''an old black hat that has
> > been soaked in the rain'' that wanders the craggy volcanic hills and
> > valleys around Meriden. Meet it once, the legend goes, it shall be for
> > joy. Meet it twice, it shall be for sorrow. Meet it a third time,
> > you're dead.
> >
> > So it might also seem strange that on Friday, a thoroughly modern man
> > of science, a natural science blogger, author, and energetic bundle of
> > enthusiasms named Brendan Hanrahan was excitedly prowling the West
> > Peak of the Hanging Hills, the very spot Pynchon had visited more than
> > a century ago.
> >
> > ''What a beautiful day to be up here,'' he shouted over a howling
> > wind, the fog, drizzle and chill giving the scene a sort of
> > ''Wuthering Heights'' effect. ''It's just like the weather must have
> > been when Pynchon was here.''
> >
> > Or maybe it's not so strange at all. Tell it in a 19th century
> > journal, post it on a 21st century blog, throw in sundry wispy
> > mysteries and who could resist the black dog's spell?
> >
> > In truth, the black dog, sometimes with fiery red eyes, is a
> > persistent figure in folk tales around the world, like the hound that
> > entered a church during a violent storm on Aug. 4, 1577, in Bungay,
> > England, where it killed two people and injured another. Or so it's
> > said. I wasn't there.
> >
> > .....snip....
> >
> > But then, any reader of Pynchon the younger would know not to be too
> > smug about what we think we know. So maybe there's an evil black dog
> > atop the Hanging Hills and maybe it's just fodder for scary campfire
> > tales. But if you see one there, it might be a good idea not to go
> > back.
>
>
>