The Curse of Old Yeller

Looking back I can't blame my parents. After all Old Yeller was a Walt Disney movie. It was about a courageous dog that helped a frontier family survive in the Wild West. At least that was what the movie advertisements implied. And this was 1957 before there were any worries about language and violence being in movies supposedly made for families. Movies were so safe that if a child happened to view a movie targeted to adults the only consequence would be utter boredom.

With Hamilton on his back, belly exposed, sleeping between my wife and I, I found myself often thinking about Old Yeller.I promised myself I would not be caught by surprise again.

As the song went, "Old Yeller was the best doggone dog in the West." Adding to his appeal to me he was a mutt, a dog much more like the dogs we had in my neighborhood. I was thrilled to see the promotions for the movie at the show, as we called our local movie theater. The problem was that this was in the era of limited movie releases. Popular movies were shown downtown first and then slowly made their way to the local theaters. I feared Old Yeller would die of old age before his adventures came to our local Peoples movie theater. I reconciled myself with adapting the story to my imagined adventures with my own dog, Rusty, " The best doggone dog on the South Side" of Chicago.

Based on what I knew from the promotions I created all sorts of triumphant adventures where Rusty and I fought off Indians invaders, pirates and lions and tigers. Rusty sat patiently by my side while I manipulated my toy soldiers and animals to tell our courageous stories.

Finally, Old Yeller arrived at the Peoples Theater. With my allowance of $1.00 I could get a ticket and popcorn and a Coke. My mother had no hesitation letting me go to the show for the afternoon. After lunch I would often walk to the theater and return home at 5 p.m. giving her and my father four glorious hours of privacy.

I went to see Old Yeller by myself. My friends were not interested. I didn't mind. I actually preferred to go to the show by myself. My friends would always want to talk during the movie or leave early. I always wanted to catch every word so that I could replay the movie later and make my own modifications to improve the story. I would always provide myself with heroic parts although I was careful not to usurp my heroes. I wanted to be their trusted companion, someone they could depend on in a jam.

Before I bought my ticket I always stopped at the Walgreen's across the street from the theater. I could get a big plastic bag of popcorn for the same price that the theater charged for a small box. The bag of popcorn was so large that after placing it on my lap I would initially have to look around it to see the movie screen.

That afternoon I felt lucky. There were both a Donald Duck and a Goofy cartoon. When Old Yeller started I sang my revised theme song under my breath, " Rusty was a puppy, a rough and ready puppy, best doggone dog on the South Side.". I need not have worried. There were a surprising number of empty seats around me. I guessed people had lost patience with Old Yeller's arrival.

Much to my delight Old Yeller enters the picture fairly early, chasing a rabbit onto the farm of Travis, my fictional counterpart. He was the eldest son of the farm family who would adopt Old Yeller. Old Yeller immediately shows his rapscallion character by stealing some meat from the family. Later, he shows his meddle by not stealing meat when tested by Travis. And he also shows his courage by saving the annoying little brother, Arliss, from a grizzly bear and Travis from a Wild Boar herd.

These exploits win Travis and his family over. Now he sleeps inside with them and has become their trusted pet and guardian. No sooner does this welcome turn of events occur when the specter of hydrophobia arrives. I didn't have a clue what that was but the script made it sound terrible, a form of madness, demonstrated by foam seeping from the mouth. No worry, Old Yeller was smart enough to stay away from anyone with excess drool coming from their mouths. And if Travis or pain-in-the-ass Arliss were in danger Old Yeller would save them. Surely this was the point of the movie. The good dog saves the family and is rewarded with their love. I knew this moral from my vast experience watching such heroic dogs as Lassie and Rin Tin Tin on television. Valor and bravery always prevailed whether from avalanches, cave ins, floods or wild beasts. Old Yeller surely demonstrated he was as true as they were.

I began to have some foreboding. Visually the movie seemed to be getting darker. Was I imagining this or did the screen suddenly have a veil drop in front of it so the scenes looked murkier?

Old Yeller confronts a wolf threatening his adopted family. The wolf is drooling. Old Yeller engages the wolf in battle. Travis comes out and shoots the wolf. Old Yeller is injured. Should he be put out of his misery?

Wait a minute! Put out of his misery? This doesn't happen to Lassie. Rin Tin Tin dodges arrows and rifle shots and Old Yeller can't fight off a rabid wolf? This can't be. He'll recover. There will be more glorious adventures. His own television show must be in the works, " Here Yeller, come back Yeller, best doggone dog in the West."

Travis, wily as ever, comes up with another test. They lock Old Yeller in the barn to see how he fares. This looks good. See he's getting better. Travis visits him one night. Not so good. Yeller snarls at him. He seems to be transformed into some other creature. Stupid Arliss almost accidentally releases the rabid Yeller. Travis has a rifle. He can't wait any longer.

I sink in my seat holding my popcorn bag in front of me. I hear a shot from the screen. The rest of the movie is a blur. There are some puppies. One is yellow - Little Yeller. I don't care. I throw my popcorn in the garbage and walk home stunned. I hear my mother ask me how the movie was. I go to my room and lie on the bed and call for Rusty.

Many nights looking at Hamilton lying on the bed I relive that afternoon. Sometimes I see it unfold completely. Other nights I hear the rifle shot amidst other thoughts. I won't be able to sleep for awhile. I want to pet him but I don't want to wake him.