By Marion Boyd

Special to the Chronicle

Back in the 1970s, the Mt. Baldy community had outhouses, not indoor toilets.

Every cabin sang praises to their particular outhouse. Pooh’s Corner, for example, had charm. Another outhouse claim to fame featured an electric hairdryer that could be attached to warm the seat on frosty days. The Wilson/Hood cabin boasted a two-hole bench perched high in the air above a yawning abyss. It was at this outhouse that Sniffer had the adventure of her life.

Sniffer was a beloved mutt owned by the Busink family. Scruffy and ill mannered, she was nonetheless adored by the three Busink children and especially by the only daughter, Jenny. One evening a lively birthday party was in full swing in the cabin. Balloons floated, kids hollered, food flowed and an abundant cake, slathered with thick icing and dotted with haphazard candles, glowed. Despite the party atmosphere, a muffled sound kept emerging. At first no one noticed. Gradually, however, it could not be ignored. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth or perhaps the snow, an animal was barking, an animal in need of help.

Party-goers pulled on boots and tracked the sound. It seemed to be coming from the outhouse. The old creaking door was slowly opened revealing little Jenny perched on one hole, overalls around her ankles, and clearly distraught. “What happened?  What’s going on?” queried the adults.  Tearfully, Jenny explained as best she could.

“I was just sitting here when Sniffer came to visit,” she said. “Sniffer likes to sit with me.” A flood of tears interrupted her story but she bravely went on. “Sniffer jumped up to sit beside me.  She didn’t know there was a hole!”   Now the tears really flowed. “Sniffer went down, down into the hole.”

“Aha”, said the industrious Baldy men after peering down the said hole with their flashlights. “Sniffer is indeed way down there. The question is how to get her out.” They quickly looked for the smallest child and suggested he could be lowered into the business end of the outhouse on a rope. Then he could grab the dog. The child, horrified, ran for protection to his mother. There were no volunteers. None at all.

Ever inventive, the Baldy men went to Plan B and tried to lasso Sniffer, alas, with no success. The barking continued as faint as it was frantic. Finally, a broom handle fitted with a coat hanger loop was lowered. Repeated attempts by our heroic and determined rescuers resulted in a squealing, squawking mutt hauled into the light of day, deposited into a pail of soapy water, scrubbed and rubbed and finally made presentable once again.

Now for those of you who know the old days, nothing could seriously interrupt a Baldy party. Before very long,  Ria, the birthday girl, was blowing out candles, guests were singing and Jenny was making sure Sniffer’s wire-like whiskers were smeared with cake. Some said that little dog actually smiled but we aren’t sure.

It could be possible though. Under a full moon on Mt. Baldy stranger things have happened.