A Dog's Tail
by Gilbert Oskaboose

Once upon a time, long ago and far away - as these matters usually are - all the dogs came together for a band meeting. In those days dogs could speak, just like human beings, so this meeting was not as strange as it sounds, at least not for that reason.

Aside from the meeting, it was also Treaty Day so all the dogs were there for their little bone. There were big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, young ones, old ones, handsome ones, ugly ones and so on and so on. They were all there. In those times it was the custom to hang one's tail just inside the door, much to same way we hang up our hats today when we enter a lodge, out of respect.

With the dogs it was easy because the anus attached to the tail made a dandy ring to slip over the nail. Some of the dogs became quite skilful at tossing the ring over the nail from five or ten feet away. They say that's how the modern game of ring tossing was invented, but that's another story for another time.

Once the meeting got going, everybody started yapping at once, except of course, for the ones who come to meetings and say nothing. Some save their words for later, when they're drunk and not afraid of anybody. Others save them to lie later on about how many important things they said at the meeting and how many other dogs they had "told off."

Meanwhile, at the meeting, everybody else was mixing it up good. Big dogs growled, little dogs yapped shrilly, old dogs criticised everything, silly dogs clowned and vicious dogs attacked anything that moved. Whenever a dog fell down or was knocked down, the rest pounced on it and gave it a damn good beating. To add to the chaos all the crazy dogs howled for no apparent reason.

Nanabush happened to be going by at the time and heard the commotion. The racket hurt his ears and he became annoyed at the dogs' behaviour.

"I've got a good notion to play a trick on those buggers, he said, digging around for his fire -maker. In no time at all Nanabush had the back wall of the council lodge burning fiercely. He ran away laughing.

Inside the dogs saw the smelled the smoke, saw the flames, and panicked. Everybody headed for the door at the same time. In their tradition it was every dog for himself.

In the confusion and panic no one took the time to find his or her tail. They just grabbed one, stuck it on, and ran for their lives.

And that's why, to this very day, whenever two strange dogs meet, the very first thing they do is check out each other's backside and tail. They're still looking for their own.

Ojibway elders say it is so.