Thursday, February 18, 2010

Knut, the German Snow Dog


Dear Professor House,


My name is Cornelius Littleton and I work at the Plateau Seven weather station in the Artic Circle. It’s the oldest meteorological station that your department runs and, quite frankly, I get the feeling that people back in the Big Smoke forget about us sometimes.


I’m writing to you because I’m afraid we will not last the next two months if Knut stays on the station. He’s ‘the real snow dog’ your department sent a month ago; you remember, yes? He’s the German Shepherd that was sent instead of the requested Husky or Malamoot. As if that wasn’t inconvenient enough, it seems that Knut will only answer to ‘Knut, the German Snow Dog’ these days, which is part of the reason for my correspondence. Realistically he should answer to ‘Knut’ – it’s much too hard to manage the sled dog teams if we have to call out ‘Knut, the German Snow Dog’ every time we want an order followed. It really is too much and to be perfectly honest with you we will not tolerate it any longer.


I’m writing you a letter because our wireless is STILL broken, despite our every effort to repair it (and your department’s insistence that we didn’t NEED a wireless in the first place), and our only contact with the outside world is the fortnightly supply/mail boat. Might I add that we would have solved this problem ourselves had the captain of said boat not flatly refused to take Knut on board? His exact words were, ‘Under no circumstances will Knut board this vessel – not after what he did to the cook on the trip over. Animals like that have no place on a ship’. I am contacting you directly because everyone else has ignored my previous letters, despite the fact that I have been following the established protocols. I get the feeling that I am being punished for some transgression of which I am unaware. If this is the case, please inform me so I may rectify the situation as soon as possible.

This isn’t about the thing with your daughter, is it?


Our problems started the moment Knut landed on our dock – he had been thrown there by the captain of the supply boat, in addition to some very choice words. We were polite and non-confrontational but Knut just growled at us and lumbered off to the huts. Not an ideal start, but this sort of work takes all kinds, doesn’t it? Davis, my research partner, asked the captain why Knut had been delivered so unceremoniously to our small piece of civilisation, to which the captain replied, ‘Anyone who attacks one of MY crew with such wanton sexual abandon does not deserve the slightest bit of courtesy.’ It must’ve been quite a crime because the captain didn’t linger, as is his usual custom, – he simply dropped off the supplies and exchanged mailbags before casting off and sailing away. Somewhat perturbed, we followed Knut’s footsteps back to the huts and eventually traced him to a corner of the kitchen where he had curled up next to the stove and fallen asleep. Unusual behaviour, certainly, but it takes a certain strength of character to work in this place, so we didn’t think that much of it – we simply put it down to a tired old dog resting his weary bones – so we left him be until morning, or at least what passes for a morning up here. The constant darkness gets to you after a while, maybe even makes you a bit mad. You don’t have to have an idiotic coffee mug to work here, but it helps!

Are you sure this isn’t about your daughter? I thought we’d put that behind us.


The next morning Davis took Knut out to the sled teams to get him settled in. If he was to be our team leader he needed to get acquainted with our existing dogs. Everyone except the lead dog, Basil, took a liking to Knut immediately, so the previous day’s misgivings were somewhat assuaged right up until the point where Knut viciously bit Basil on the back of the neck. Now, I understand that this is standard dog behaviour, but we didn’t expect anything of this nature from Knut, especially not after reading the glowing references which you sent us. At any rate, Davis separated Knut and Basil with the aid of his whip and managed to diffuse the situation. We relocated Basil to the infirmary where we patched up his wounds, and decided to set Knut up near the other dogs for the time-being, assuming it was for the best. It wasn’t. We were disturbed at 3pm by frenzied barking coming from the direction of the kennels. We investigated the noise and were horrified to see Knut attempting to mate with one of the bitches (am I allowed to say ‘bitches’? I know it’s entirely accurate, but it just doesn’t seem right). We gave him a whipping and decided to put him in a room which was removed from the dogs, purely to instil a semblance of discipline in his head. Twenty minutes later we investigated more barking and found him ‘rutting’ with another bitch (are you sure? Because I’m really having a problem with this). How he got out, I don’t know, but the point is that he did it, and caused us immense grief by doing so. This was his SECOND day at the station. The SECOND day of a THREE-MONTH-LONG STAY, professor. We whipped him again and confined him to his hut. It was at this point that he refused to respond to ‘Knut’. It was Davis’ idea that we refer to him as ‘Knut the German Snow Dog’, and I hope he freezes to death because of it as Knut refuses to respond to anything else.

I’m beginning to have some serious misgivings about why you sent him to my station.


Thankfully, Knut settled into his hut with minimal fuss after that. We would keep him away from the sled dogs until it was time to take the day’s weather readings from the station’s outlying instruments. A change would come over Knut during these periods and he would happily run ahead or alongside the sleds, setting the pace. My guess is that sled dogs fear ‘romantic advances’ more than anything else – what other reason could there be for their sudden speed increase? We would take the readings from the instruments and hot-foot it back to the warmth of our huts. Knut would join us inside at these times, although what interest a German Shepherd has in weather forecasts I do not know. When he got bored he would stare out the window or ruthlessly hump furniture – an activity we tolerated because it was better he fornicate with a desk than the research team’s legs. During the second week he started viciously grinding against the research team’s legs despite their fervent protests and violent whippings. I almost think that the whippings spurred him on, strange old dog that he is. When we locked him in ‘his’ hut one night he turned aggressive and violent. He tore the room to pieces. Everything was completely destroyed – the power outlets, the telephone, any exposed wires, the bed, the bookshelves – anything he could get his teeth into. When Davis released him the next day for our daily sled run Knut lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. As Davis fell, Knut ran off into the darkness, and was gone. Some of the team searched for him, albeit half-heartedly, but there was nothing much we could do until what little light the Artic Sunrise offered returned the next day. Davis wasn’t hurt, but you can understand our alarm. Knut had been here for two weeks and we already wanted to see the back of him. It was almost as if he was a sadistic gift given to the station leader as punishment for transgressions against his boss’s daughter, allegedly committed years previously.


The next day Knut was lying in his bed, sound asleep. How he managed to find his way back I do not know – perhaps it can be put down to the famous German Shepherd’s sense of smell? Regardless, we begged the ships captain to take him back the next day, but he flatly refused, mean-spirited bastard that he is. I resolved to try again the next time he docked.


Professor, the last two weeks have been pure agony. Knut has destroyed nearly everything of value here and he’s either mated with or chased off our sled dogs. Our wireless is still broken (as your department has been so kind to notice…) and we don’t have many options left. I’m giving this letter to the captain to deliver to you personally, along with a list of supplies we need to repair our equipment and survive out here. The infamous Artic Winter is approaching and we’ll need all the support we can get if we’re to continue our work through the following months as it will be impossible for any ship to reach us. I’m betting that the captain won’t be taking Knut on board at this meeting either, so we can only hope that our German Snow Dog loses himself in a blizzard or jumps into the icy water. SERIOUSLY, professor, what made you think that a crazier-than-a-shithouse-rat German Shepherd would be of any use out here? There aren’t any sheep for crying out loud and he can’t even speak English! At what point did you think that such a man would be of ANY use to me or my team? His mood swings are as changing as the tides, and his refusal to communicate like a human being, his refusal to even respond to his damn NAME, is making me wonder whether you didn’t just find him in a mental hospital and send him out here to terrorise me because of what happened with your daughter all those years ago.


Oh you bastard. That’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?


Fine. I’m SORRY, but we were both FIFTEEN YEARS OLD, professor and I didn’t HAVE any chewing gum on me. If I did, I would have given her some, but I didn’t, so I couldn’t.


There’s probably no point in me sending this, but I will anyway in the hope that it makes a difference.


‘PLEASE send us the supplies we need, PLEASE send us a new sled dog team, PLEASE send us the wireless we need, and PLEASE send a security team to take out Knut, because if you don’t, I will. I swear I’d do it, like, you know even KNOW.’


Yours sceptically,



Doctor Cornelius Littleton


PS. I’m going to die out here, aren’t I?

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