National Geographic : 1957 Jan
62 Three Lions "Allez-y!" A Keeper's Command Sends Dogs Avalanching down a Powdery Slope "We ship puppies to the United States to people who want them as pets. Would you like one sent later?" Cold reason forced me to think of my fre quent traveling and the formidable amounts of meat my pet would soon require. Above all, there came to me a mental picture of myself taking the furry giant for his daily airing, joining the ranks of apartment door men walking miniature poodles. I withdrew my request. I had hoped to make the descent the fol lowing morning, but the dawn came cloudy and cold. The monks advised me not to go. However, they said that if I had to leave they would guide me. I decided to wait, and spent the morning with Father Emery in the cobbler's shop off the kitchen, photographing a mother dog with her litter. It was hard to imagine her tiny, wriggling puppies turning into huge furry beasts bounding over the snow (page 59). For the rest of the day I relaxed, enjoying the company of the good men and their friendly animals. I was learning to distin guish between Bella and Edda, Almira and Stella, Alma and Ella and Horsa. In the recent past, dogs at the hospice have also been named Rex, Turc, Myrra, Pallas, Alpina, and Diane. Early the next morning I watched Anselme get ready to go for provisions into Bourg St. Pierre. We packed hurriedly, put on our skis, and were on our way in the twilight before sunrise. Back to "Noisy" Village Life Going down was much easier than coming up; scarcely three hours after leaving the hospice we skimmed into Bourg St. Pierre, which gave me quite a surprise. It was no longer a quiet little village. After my stay in the lonely, snowed-in pass, it seemed to me a large town, unbearably astir with every kind of noise except the cheerful barking of the St. Bernard dogs.