Newsletter

The Saturday Morning Press
Vol. 1, No. 1, Whole No. 1, Total pages 1, January 1973

MY OXEN SITUATION,
FORCING A CHOICE BETWEEN UNPLEASANT ALTERNATIVES
By Peggy Dyment

Dear Sir: Further to a letter from Mr. James H. Boyes of Bracebridge in the January 4th issue of the Gravenhurst News regarding compulsory snowmobile legislation, I wish to add my name to the list of Ontarians concerned about this particular "funny money" scheme. It seems to me that it is completely unreasonable to tax a snowmobile in the amount of $10.00 for four or five months use. I feel obliged as a matter of principle, to say that I feel it is a blatant extortion of more people money to support an already top-heavy administration and provide more "play money" for more "give away schemes"--- sort of a rob Peter to PAY Paul, if you know what I mean, and I think that you do. As well, I feel that if I am taxed on my snowmobile, the tax should go to the property owner where I travel. I don't travel on the roads, I don't cut fences or destroy trees or make fires and I only travel on another man's property with his permission. I just like to get away from people and my snowmobile has provided for me, access to solitude and serenity. Be that as it may, my dilemma is neither the tax nor the snowmobile but rather my oxen Dot and Charlie. You see, I have this elderly team of oxen who share adjoining stalls with my snowmobile in the barn, and Charlie who has both insight and foresight feels that he wants to be licensed too. Dot is not so sure and I'll get around to her later. Charlie says he uses the roads and feels he is entitled - even the animals are yelling about their rights. He doesn't pay much attentions to the road signs, but so far the Ontario Provincial Police have been very tolerant to him and he hasn't gotten into too much trouble. Ever since he read the letter in the Gravenhurst News about the licenses, there is just no living with him. Last winter he had a bad spell like that when he first saw the licenses. I finally had to cut an inch off his horns, because he kept sticking his head through the bars on his feed box and giving me a jab every time I passed in front of him. Then he would stare at a knot-hole in the wall and cross his eyes and bellow. It was a very un-nerving way to start the day, because i kept getting some sort of a telepathic message which I associated with Government spending while Charlie chortled and wheezed in his stall. Anyway, I solved that little gem myself without too much thought and without having to get assistance from the Canada Council or the Local Initiatives people. Mind you, I had to give Charlie an extra turnip for three days to get him settled down again. I sympathize with Charlie because he tries to stay abreast of things current, politically and socially. In fact one could say that Charlie is right in there, or that he is an alright ox. Dot he-haws and says he is a dummox but maybe she knows more than we do. He wants a license plate for his rump - shaped to fit, if you please, and with his initials on it in brown and white, because he likes colour-co-ordination. He also feels he should have a couple of flashing red lights front and back. Since Dot is an ox with a lot of class and she is already a bit uppitty about her freedom, she says she doesn't want anything to do with either the lights or the license. She says the only license she ever signed got her into one awful mess of trouble. I'm inclined to agree with Dot for somehow, it just doesn't seem fitting for a female to wear a license or a red light, doesn't it? Aside from that, Dot says the whole oxen licensing bit would require an entire new Government department or supervisors, deputies, assistant supervisors and at least two people to do the work. hen the tax might even go up as high as forty dollars, just like Mr. Boyes said. Now, Dot and Charlie are elderly and just about eligible for the pension, but they have their pride. They both keep saying that they did a lot settle the country back in '09 and Charlie insists that if we idiots in charge to-day would just show a little horse sense ( I wonder if he intended a pun there ) and look at things in a more realistic manner, we could come out of this mess we have made of things without too much permanent damage. I think perhaps it's time to listen and pay attention to Charlie and that's y problem. You see I have to live with Dot and Charlie and sure as guns, if we let him solve the provincial dilemma, he'll want to do some fool thing like running for the school board. Dot says he had better be danged careful or he'll get more than an inch cut off his horns here. Dot says, really, she doesn't care, he's always done exactly what he wanted to do anyway in typical male fashion -their young ones are long ago grown up and gone and none of them were much for higher education. She says fondly, they all did right well for themselves too, two in the Federal government, two in the Provincial government and two at the municipal level, all of them horn polishers. While I wait for some reader answers to my problem, without benefit of the Royal Commission, it would seem sensible too keep the Gravenhurst news away from Charlie. Last time he came across something he didn't agree with, he ate the paper. I try to see that he doesn't get the paper until it is a week old because it makes for calm conditions in the barn. By the time he has read the paper, pondered and decided what to do it is very often too late. Meanwhile I'd appreciate the co-operation of the mailman and the neighbours to see that the paper gets to the house first. Charlie's a good solid, comfortable ox, but he doesn't have much style and I just wonder how he would fit into the Davis administration. I tell you one thing, tho, he's good for a barrel of laughs. Written in deadly earnest, without prejudice or malice or even very much thought while sitting in the oat box very late at night by Mrs. J. N. Dyment, a Sparrow Lake native.

This uncopyrighted article may be reproduced, filched, stolen, copied or quoted, in whole or in part without permission of the author or publisher "her words"

Originally printed by John Dyment, the publisher, at 24 Colborne Street east in Orillia, Ontario, Canada, at his own expense (because he is the husband of the author) without any permission, or grants from any government department or agency. Circulation (if combined with the Toronto Daily Star) would be a fantastic amount.

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