Anthoniana
A great many of the stories about St. Anthony’s, past and present, are concerned with dogs. Occasionally another animal will slip in, like the two horses stabled nearby that found the grass greener on our side of the fence, or the sparrow that went to sleep in the bus one night and couldn’t get out until the forty Juniors on their way to a museum opened a window somewhere in Queens. But most of the stories are about dogs.
Beans
The first one was Beans, who antedated St. Anthony’s, since he belonged to the novices. When St. Anthony’s was under construction, Beans marked it as his own: Somewhere under the linoleum in the computer center are paw prints Beans left during a tour of inspection. He was a friendly animal; even other dogs liked him. Every time he strayed off for a few days, he returned with a retinue of a dozen or so dogs who seemed to hate leaving him behind. Of course he adopted the Juniorate boys as soon as they arrived, but he never deserted the novices entirely. Naturally he was fed by both groups.
There were a few occasions when Beans did not get along with other dogs, and returned looking like the lower in a melee. On one occasion, the Juniorate boys took him to a vet to have his wounds treated, and the vet decided the dog needed to remain, at least overnight. But when the boys returned to St. Anthony’s, they found Beans already there, waiting for them. All of the early graduates of the school speak of Beans with great affection. He was obviously a dog with personality.
Arko (Arco)
Years later, when the day boys had become part of the school, Brother Celsus used to bring his dog to class with him. Arko (or Arco) was less friendly than Beans had been. If he took a dislike to someone, he growled each time he met the person. He seems to have had a genuinely threatening manner, so Brother Aquinas was none too happy to hear the dog approaching one evening when no one else was at home. But the empty halls and rooms were apparently oppressive to Arko, and he wanted company, no matter whose. He settled peaceably at Brother’s feet, and, having once been friendly toward him, never threatened him again.
Anthony
Then there was Anthony. Anthony attended school as regularly as any student. All through the 70’s, he prowled the paths responding to every sign of affection, and generously accepting lunch from half the boys on campus. As a rule, he spent homeroom period at the windows of the 300 wing, his paws on the sill, waiting patiently for a pat on the head or a bite from a sandwich.
The dog was none too careful crossing streets, and on one occasion, was hit by a car. The boys immediately collected money among themselves, and took their unofficial mascot to a vet to have his broken leg properly treated. The vet, of course, was deeply impressed by their caring so well for a dog that was not their responsibility.
It was evident that Anthony belonged to someone, for he was well cared for, but no one knew who the owner might be until a freshman exclaimed, “That’s our dog, Max! We’ve been wondering where he goes everyday!? Anthony/Max continued to attend school until the day when he was again hit by a car, right in front of the school, and died.