TESC housing in the 1970s was limited to Dorms A-D, and the mods. The area in between, which is now a small village, was all woods back then. Maybe there was a squatter or two camped out in there, but that was it. On the border of campus was the privately owned Adult Student Housing, known as ASH. Some called it the ASH Hole. I lived there for awhile and it wasn't too bad. It sure beat living in a 1962 Ford Ranchwagon (see Evergroove trivia, pt. 55), and when the Rev. Chumleigh (see Evergroove trivia, pt. 27) visited my ASH apartment, he proclaimed it to be "Swank." Today it is called Cooper Glen, I think.

Anyway, since ASH allowed pets we sometimes got to know certain animals very well without ever learning who their owners were. Aside from Jobbo and Bonobo, the pet slugs (see Evergroove trivia, pt. 28), I'd like to single out a cat and a dog that hold special places in my memory.

The cat was named Rocky. I'm not sure why we knew his name, but we did. Rocky had a habit of dashing into our apartment once the door was opened and spraying a token of his esteem on our carpet. He also jumped up on tables and counters and ate anything he could find. If two of us were coming into our place at the same time, one of us would approach the neighbor's door and fumble with the keys. And Rocky would wait, biding his time, thinking he had an easy mark. Meanwhile, the other one of us would be silently opening our actual door. Then, in a whirlwind of action, the decoy would run back and enter the genuine door, leaving Rocky stunned and surprised. Boy, was his face red! We were very proud of our ability to outsmart a cat.

Sort of pathetic, isn't it? Did I say "sort of"? It is pathetic. This is how we entertained ourselves prior to the advent of personal computers, video games, VHS cassettes, or CDs.

The dog I only met once. It was getting to be evening and the rain was cold and heavy. We were walking on an ASH pathway and crossed paths with a large woman walking a small dog. This little mutt was exceptionally ugly. Its lower jaw protruded, exposing the sharp lower teeth. It had bulging Peter Lorre eyes caked with gunk. The hind end of this thing had obviously been chewed and scratched to the point where it had open, running sores. It panted and wheezed in a loud, labored way. The little monster was all wet and skulking and regarded us with a curled lip and a high pitched growl.

And the owner of this specimen revealed its name when she barked out the the command, "Cuddles! Stop that!"