LDSarchivesSTORIES

Our influence is surely felt in our respective families.

Sometimes we fathers forget that once we, too, were boys,

and boys at times can be vexing to parents. I recall

how much, as a youngster, I liked dogs. One day I took

my wagon and placed a wooden orange crate in it and went

looking for dogs. At that time dogs were everywhere to be

found: at school,walking along the sidewalks, or exploring

vacant lots, of which there were many. As I would find a

dog and capture it, I placed it in the crate, took

it home, locked it in the coal shed, and turned the latch

on the door. That day I think I brought home six dogs of

varying sizes and made them my prisoners after this

fashion. I had no idea what I would do with all

those dogs, so I didn't reveal my deed to anyone.

Dad came home from work and, as was his custom,

took the coal bucket and went to the coal shed

to fill it. Can you imagine his shock and utter

consternation as he opened the door and immediately

faced six dogs, all attempting to escape at once?

As I recall, Dad flushed a little bit, and then

he calmed down and quietly told me, "Tommy, coal

sheds are for coal. Other people's dogs rightfully

belong to them." By observing him, I learned a

lesson in patience and calmness. It is a good

thing I did, for a similar event occurred in my life

with our youngest son, Clark. Clark has always liked

animals, birds, reptiles - anything that is alive.

Sometimes that resulted in a little chaos in our home.

One day in his boyhood he came home from Provo Canyon

with a water snake, which he named Herman. Right off

the bat Herman got lost. Sister Monson found him in

the silverware drawer. Water snakes have a way of

being where you least expect them. Well, Clark moved

Herman to the bathtub, put a plug in the drain,

put a little water in, and had a sign taped to the back

of the tub which read, "Don't use this tub. It belongs

to Herman." So we had to use the other bathroom while

Herman occupied that sequestered place. But then one

day, to our amazement, Herman disappeared. His name should

have been Houdini. He was gone! So the next day

Sister Monson cleaned up the tub and prepared it for normal use.

Several days went by. One evening I decided it was time to take

a leisurely bath; so I filled the tub with a lot of warm water,

and then I peacefully lay down in the tub for a few moments of

relaxation. I was lying there just pondering, when the soapy

water reached the level of the overflow drain and began to flow

through it. Can you imagine my surprise when, with my eyes

focused on that drain, Herman came swimming out, right for my

face? I yelled out to my wife, "Frances! Here comes Herman!"

Well, Herman was captured again, put in a foolproof box, and

we made a little excursion to Vivian Park in Provo Canyon and

there released Herman into the beautiful waters of the South

Fork Creek. Herman was never again to be seen by us.

-Thomas S. Monson