Page 37 - 1938

F.T.D.L.C.W.P.F.
Gazing idly out the window this morning we suddenly had our attention attracted by a man across the street. He was in overalls and held in one hand what looked like a steak and in the other a magnifying glass. Waving the meat gently back and forth he snooped up and down the street. As he turned, we caught sight of some initials on his back. Our intention of calling the police and a straight jacket vanished. Instead we rushed to the telephone directory. We called the number given for the initials. A voice answered. Before we could get in a word, it continued, ‘And is your little dog lost? Never mind, we'll have him for j’ou in a few hours. Just give us your name and address and a description of the poor thing.”
We thought it time to assert ourselves. “Madam,” we said firmly, “We are the press. What does ‘F.T.D.L.C.W.P.F.’ mean?”
There followed the silence we expected, but we thought we heard a faint yapping. Then the voice came again.
“It means ‘Foundation-for-the-Tracking-Down-of-Lost-Canines-also-Washing-and- Plucking-when-Found.’ Manager, Ruth Weir. This is Ruth Weir." We said we'd seen one of their men prowling around. “Oh, did you? We have half a dozen of them around the city. Don’t you think it’s a lovely idea? You see, after I married I found I didn’t have enough to do, so I started this foundation. We've found forty-seven lost dogs in three months. My husband takes care of the business part, and I comfort the owners.”
“Thank you,” we said, and rushed to the typewriter before we could forget the initials.
FAD This new teeth craze is getting us down. We see teeth everywhere—teeth bracelets, teeth necklaces, teeth pins, teeth charms. In fact we practically see teeth in our sleep. As we could think of no reason for this dental fad, we decided to dig down to its root. It seems that a certain lady living perfectly quietly with her husband and young daughter came up against the problem of having her child’s first tooth pulled. The problem was a particularly large one as little Jo loved the tooth and couldn’t bear to lose it. Finally her mother solved the situation by promising to have the tooth mounted in gold and hung on a charm bracelet. The first day- or so after the operation the tooth was worn to kindergarten, and within a week all the loose teeth in the class had been volun­ tarily pulled and made into ornaments. Soon one of the mothers had one of her wisdom teeth made into a pin. It started there, and we doubt that it will stop anywhere. Little Jo’s mother and, incidentally, namesake, is rather upset about the whole business. She said she doesn’t like the idea at all and had no intention of starting a fad. We told her not to worry, that it was really quite harmless. She thanked us and promised to send us little
LAST STRAW
We were just about to hand this in with a sigh, when a well-informed, excitable friend of ours burst in. “Get this!” he yelled at us. “They’ve invented a new suit of cards!” We grabbed our pencil. The new suit, it appears, was invented by Helen Cuff, famous bridge expert who, having learned all there was to know about the other five suits, must needs add a sixth. We don’t mind that—we even admire her for it. But the new suit is called teeth and is represented by a large red wisdom tooth. This we do think
F. C, ’38. Page Thirty-three
Jo’s next tooth as a watch charm.
is the last straw!