At Home With The King Of The Collies

Kattell is able to indulge his passion for dog chiefly because he lives alone and his wants are tin-plate simple. For years he worked for a dog food concern, and his wages were chiefly in trade.

Aside from canyon-hopping, the chief entertainment at Borco comes from the rattlesnakes, a breed of arrogant pioneers who claim prior rights to the entire high desert. You might think 50 or more big dogs roaming freely would drive the rattlers out. Nothing of the sort. They do not propose to be driven out by anyone, and are quite as hardy and prolific as anyone's dogs.

About 3 one recent morning Kattell was awakened by his pack in full cry. What's more, the cries were around and under his cabin. He listened some more, and then he heard the familiar clicking beneath him. He took flashlight and hoe and crawled under the cabin. A fat and sassy rattler was coiled there, hissing its defiance and daring just one dog to come within range. Kattell did crawl within range and dispatched the serpent with a good forehand stroke, to the immense satisfaction of the audience.

A scrappy rattler

Pack rats once found a way into the trunk of his car and devoured a new sack of meal stored there. Kattell resolved to teach them a lesson. He caught a scrappy rattler and put it in the trunk, along with a supply of water and the hope it would soon be dining on pack rat. The next day, starting a long trip, he was moved to have fun with a filling station attendant. "I want to show you something," he said, and opened the trunk. Nothing. Kattell immediately began a meticulous search of the car, but no sign of the anti-pack-rat force.

The next night, returning home from his trip, he switched on the dome light and reached into the back for some forgotten item. He didn't reach far. There was the rattler, curled on the back seat, buzzing with indignation that the journey was ending.

Sitting in front of his cabin of a summer evening, the harsh peaks now soft and blue in the distance, Kattell concedes that he has let a hobby and sport possess his life. "But how else," he muses, "could a man like me, living all alone, have so many friends?"

"Classing the dogs as friends?"

"No. The people I meet because of the dogs. The people who come up here to see me and the dogs. The people who invite me to shows and meetings. The people who write...."

At Kattell's feet, Roger Bright listened intently while at a greater distance a circle of collies watched both Kattell and Roger to see what it all meant. Kattell reached over and stroked Roger's handsome mahogany head, briskly rubbed the soft, tuliped ears. "It gets to be a chore at times, but it's still fun. Eh, Roger?"