We're Coming to Take You Away, Ha Ha

My dog Dukey is licking my arm. That probably means he likes me. Once I'm letting him do it, I must like him. But Harvard doesn't want Dukey living here, and intends to force him out within the next few days.

In fact, yesterday was the deadline for the departure of some 100 dogs, Harvard housing, according to an edict handed down by the Committee of Housing and Undergraduate Life (CHUL). Even Ruth, a chicken, is supposed to get out.

This mass eviction is going to cause ??dness for an awfully large number of people if Harvard follows through with its enforcement plan. One kid in Leverett has already been forced to take back home a dog which has been his pet for many years.

The scenario is frightening. A big black truck from Building and Grounds (B and G), the police unit in this affair, pulls up outside Quincy House. Two men in white uniforms get out and come up to our room. They knock on the door; the door opens.

"We've come for your dog," they say, and Dukey, who had been lying quietly in the corner, looks up. They go over and attach some rope to his collar, pull, and take him out the door. The pet we've raised from age six weeks to almost six months is gone. We'd wanted to raise a nice dog, so we'd never taught him to sic the men in the white suits.

There are a few persons who really expect that to happen since most owners will simply refuse to comply with the pet ban. Leveretts Senior Tutor, Robert E. Kaufmann, thinks disciplinary pressure will be put on students until they cooperate.

Kaufmann, who feels many senior tutors share his opposition to keeping pets in the Houses, expounded what we might call the Kaufmann Theory of Escalating Punishment. A student whose pet is not out on February 8 gets a House warning. If he refuses to comply for another week, he is eligible for probation through the Administrative Board. Kaufmann, who has also taken a stand against pinball in the Houses, let his mind wander to the final stage of the process. "It's not inconceivable that he [the owner] could be severed from the University."

But these animals fill a psychological need in some of us. We remember Sunday nights at 7 p. m. when we used to curl up in front of the TV with our dog to watch Lassie save Timmy from forest fires, Mack trucks, and child molesters. The feats of Rin Tin Tin and Rusty are still fresh in our minds. And what of those special words at the end of Sergeant Preston? "Well, King, this case is closed."

Another reason for the new interest in owning pets appears to be the old atmosphere of the city, especially in Harvard housing with its sealed-off living units. I remember walking up the four flights of Thayer Middle in September 1967, and seeing these four grey, automatically-closing doors on each floor. In this situation, you've got to import as much life into your room as possible, and a pet is perhaps the best way. "It's more human," one student said when asked why he kept a cat.

A third explanation could be a turning away from politics toward objects of affection. It's a hell of a lot easier to fill a water dish than it is to stand in a picket line or to canvass.

Obviously, there are some students here who aren't capable of caring properly for animals, and this is supposedly the reason for Harvard's opposition to keeping pets. Last Spring seniors in Quincy House left behind a cat, and when the custodian finally discovered the cat three weeks later, he was wild and had to be put to sleep. Superintendent John Allen, who's not much of an animal-lover anyway, remembers this incident and cites it as one good reason why we shouldn't keep pets. In Leverett this Fall, one owner was so negligent that his dog was defecating in the halls. This practice makes life tough for maintenance men and students.

So it is clear that certain animals have been mistreated here, and have in some cases made things unpleasant for other persons. But that doesn't mean that no one should be allowed to have pets. Maybe my neighbors at home beat up on their pet rabbit, but that doesn't mean Mt. Kisco should pass a no-pets law. And we haven't discontinued athletics here just because some guys smoke or drop acid before meets.

Obviously, the solution is to allow pets, but have House organizations act as supervisory agents so that no animals are abused and no persons bothered by a pet's odors or noises. Surprise! The CHUL's subcommittee on housing submitted a memorandum in late November recommending just that.

Apparently the committee ignored the report, signed by Ben Moore. A student member, one of the few who did not vote for a complete ban on pets, explained recently what action the CHUL took on the issue at a pre-Christmas meeting. "I didn't feel personally that it was ever really considered," he said. "Someone said, 'I don't like pets,' and someone else said, 'Yeah, let's get rid of pets,' and it was passed."

The date set for the eviction of pets was January 4, but then it was extended to February 8 at the CHUL's next meeting, when the subject still seemed to be unworthy of serious consideration. "I had the feeling no one wanted to talk about it," said Rod Petersen, a student CHUL member.

Those of us who are owners have been told that our pets must go because they are health hazards. This was supposedly the justification for the ruling. Yet Petersen asserts that the health aspects were never even mentioned. The Cambridge Department of Health said last week that its only regulation on keeping animals states that no one may keep more than three dogs or cats in an apartment.

Thus far, enforcement by the Houses has varied in intensity. On one extreme is Leverett, and at the other are Houses whose senior tutors have made some token statement about getting rid of pets but haven't tried to put any teeth into their warnings.

Master Richard T. Gill got the ball rolling in Leverett in December when he posted a memo in the dining hall saying that the animals had to go. An angered student affixed a P. S. to the note:

P. S. This includes the resident rat in the dining hall. -RTG

RTG

Then Kaufmann called in six roommate groups to tell them their animals had to go. He claims to have had 100 per cent compliance from the six. "I like dogs as much as anyone," Kaufmann said last week. "But the welfare of the community was being totally ignored." Leverett, remember, was the place where dogs were relieving themselves in the hallway, according to Kaufmann.

He said he doesn't want to be the only hard-liner. "I'd be very disappointed if I turn out to be the boogie man in this," he mused. And there are indications that Mather is not exactly a haven for pets either. There are very few there now, and one resident who knows his way around the House pretty well said Sunday, 'If there's any House where that rule will be enforced, it's Mather."

In fact, it seems that the old male-community Houses are the ones where pets are really scarce and are threatened with extinction. Another of that genre, Eliot, has a low pet population, too. When Kaufmann says, "I believe in communities like this," you begin to think he's not alone.

Then there are places like Adams, Quincy, Winthrop, and Lowell, where resisters to the CHUL ruling have not been hassled too much, and where some members of the House administration own pets themselves. The rule, incidentally, applies, only to students since masters and senior tutors are living in their permanent homes.

In some cases, the superintendents in these Houses will crusade to oust the animals. Adams' J. V. Cogan has been quite persistent in all parts of Adams, including Claverly. One students complained to a friend the other day about being balled out by Cogan for keeping a dog.

One of the night watchmen in Quincy spends a good part of his time trying to force outside a German Shepherd stray which has recently made Quincy his home. The dog, named Woof by a few students, is well trained and extremely friendly, and now he's afraid to leave the courtyard. Any move by the superintendent or his staff to get rid of Woof is not going to make him very popular with the rest of the House, which has started providing for his needs.

A secretary in one of the not-so-strict Houses said, "We're going to fight it to the hilt. But it gets to the point that if you want to have a good name around here," you comply.

Naturally, the pet owners themselves aren't giving in yet, either. I have absolutely no intention of cooperating. We've taken damn good care of our dog, given him shots, and worked hard at training him. He doesn't bother other people. He means too much to us for us to give him up just because the CHUL affirms a regulation we consider unjust. Our feelings on the subject are hardly unique. One guy is talking about a law suit over his cat unless Harvard can prove that he's not doing justice to the animal.

Of course, at the same time Harvard is telling us we can't have pets in University housing, it is trying to tell us we cannot live off-campus. What then, Harvard, is the solution for a student who really wants to own a pet? Transfer. One high-ranking University official, a bit discouraged by the handling of the pet situation, said of the CHUL ruling, "It's like re-establishing the coat and tie rule."

Despite the February 8 deadline, House officials are waiting for one last action by the CHUL, which meets again Wednesday night. "We've had confusing signals from the committee," Winthrop Senior Tutor Thomas D. Parker pointed out. "Once they decide what to do, we'll go from there."

But can the CHUL act responsibly on this matter? Twice it has had opportunities to give it some serious thought, and twice it has railroaded through a no-pets decision. Its own subcommittee came out unequivocally