it's a Dog's Life

An old lady died in Pittsburgh not long ago. She was a spinster who wore sensible shoes and no-nonsense hair styles, and she had labored more than 30 years in the musty routine of a bank. The life of Miss Ida Capers, 72, was a lonely one--except for her dogs. All her life she had had at least two. When she suffered a heart attack in her house last January, her only companions were a pair of Irish setters named Brickland and Sunny Burch.

Ida Capers called them her "girls." At Christmas, she sent out pictures of her dogs, as proud parents send photos of children. Often, the only jewelry she wore was a pin shaped like an Irish setter. Her dogs were her life, but Miss Capers fretted constantly about what might happen when Brickland and Sunny Burch no longer had her to care for them. Who could possibly love them as she had? Determined that her dogs should not suffer, Miss Capers wrote a will--leaving the bulk of her modest estate to the Humane Society of Western Pennsylvania and stipulating that Brickland and Sunny Burch be put to death.

Strip for Mercy. When the story of her decision became public, there arose a great outcry from wounded dog lovers. Small children and aging widows dashed off letters and telegrams pleading for the dogs' lives. A Pennsylvania legislator said he would introduce a bill to make it forever illegal for a will to order death for "any living creature, whether it be dogs or goldfish." A dog-food manufacturer offered to feed the dogs for life.

The Philadelphia Inquirer editorialized that maybe Pennsylvania should make the Irish setter its "state dog" to go along with a state flower, state tree and state game bird. The United Irish Societies of Pittsburgh found a lawyer willing to defend the dogs--for free. A dog from the Pittsburgh police K-9 corps found his paw dipped in ink and splayed in signature across a petition for clemency. A New York striptease dancer, who claims to own 50 dogs, offered to undress in front of the courthouse if it would help save the setters.

Orphans' Reprieve. Now enters Pennsylvania's Republican Governor William Scranton, owner of a Labrador retriever. (As a child, his wife had had a pair of Irish setters, but they were shot by a farmer.) Scranton spotted the story in a Pittsburgh paper, interrupted a series of legislative planning meetings to phone an aide and ask, "Can't we do something about this?" Indeed they could. Within hours after the Governor's query, a special assistant attorney general went into Allegheny County Orphans Court, which handles the probate and interpretation of wills, and served notice that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania wanted to be heard before the dogs died. But even before that, Orphans Court Judge William Rahauser had made up his mind: Brickland and Sunny Burch would not die until Ida Capers' estate is audited. And that, dog lovers learned happily, will take anywhere from six to 15 months.

The feeling is that Miss Capers' dogs will not be executed. There is a new file in the Governor's office now, marked "Dogs Saved from Death." It is stuffed with dozens of messages, most of them offering warm and loving care to Brickland and Sunny Burch. As Governor Scranton said: "I'm sure Miss Capers would feel very good if she knew how many people have now offered to provide her pets with good homes."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.