The Jewish Dog by Asher Kravitz Page A

ran from shadow to shadow , I could see them beating , burning , and shattering windows . Scared , I found a hiding place in a dark alleyway . Dozens of boys gathered at the end of the street , piling books upon books . One sent a torch flying , and within moments , the pile rose into a ball of fire . The great light blinded me and I was struck by fear . Fire was the element I loathed most , and I was paralyzed by the thought of my fur being consumed by the flames.
    Suddenly , I heard a familiar voice searching for me . “Zelig , Zelig . .  . Zelig. . . .” Frank called loudly . I was surprised that he had not given up . I had to decide quickly what to do . One end of the alley was blocked by the book-burning boys . Frank’s shadow was nearing at the other end . This is it , I thought . I am as good as caught . I was already imagining Frank dragging me back to his home and wife.
    But he still hadn’t noticed me and there remained in my heart a sliver of hope . The sun had set , and Frank would almost certainly not persist in his search much longer . Still in my hiding place behind the dumpster , I brought all my extremities as close to my chest as caninely possible , compacting myself as best as I could.
    Frank was coming closer . “Zelig , Zelig. . . .” He was just feet away . I kept close to the ground , silent as I could be . Frank turned this way and that , surveying the scene one final time.
    â€œTreacherous , ungrateful Jew dog,” he said angrily , and headed home for dinner with his Greta.

    I remained glued to the sidewalk behind the dumpster , wondering why I was chased by such misfortune . I thought once more of the hunt , the motionless kitten , Karl Gustav’s triumphant barks , and worst of all , my unforgivable silence . At that moment , I took a vow : never again would I shed feline blood . Then I looked up at the horizon , at the roofs and the dark canvas of sky stretched between them . Was there someone up there to hear my vow?
    Another doleful memory then arose . The image of my siblings , whom I would never see again . Woe is me , a house pet I had been , with the riches of my owners clutched between my paws ; now they clutch nothing . I have no one to protect me , to feed me , to fill my water bowl . Where are Herschel’s warm legs to press against on the cold , windy nights?
    I rose slowly from my hiding place and walked onto the street . The scents that used to spark my curiosity now forewarned danger . Cars out to hit , police horses with hooves fit to kill , and worst of all – restless hoodlums , ready to throw any object in reach.
    An arm came suddenly through the dark and grabbed at my throat . It caught my collar , and I heard Frank’s voice growl at me . “Here you are , you elusive Jewish bastard ! You thought you could escape ! Ha!”
    I tried to shrink away , preparing to receive the lashing an unruly dog deserves . But instead of a big zetz , I was surprised with a hug and a petting . Frank held my face between his hands . “All right,” he said . “The doctor was right . I wasn’t giving you the attention you need . Not to absolve myself of blame , but it’s Greta’s fault ! Ach , what do you know? You just want to chase sticks with your friends . You don’t need to grovel to a rich father-in-law and work hard to support a hellcat . Just as you live by the grace of my hand , I live by the grace of hers and her family’s . If it weren’t for her father , I wouldn’t have enough money to fill a dog’s dish . Dammit , Zelig , my life is in the dumps . Thank God I found myself a cute little idiot like you.”

    The next few days were divine . Frank and Greta shouted at each other more than usual , but it didn’t impede my blessed walking routine . Every day , Frank would take me out for a long afternoon stroll . “I have to get to the office,” Frank would tell