Tag: Hound of the Baskervilles

Of hellhounds

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn myth, writing2 Comments

“I got to keep movin’, I got to keep movin’Blues fallin’ down like hail, blues fallin’ down like hailHmm-mmm, blues fallin’ down like hail, blues fallin’ down like hail.” – From Robert Johnson’s blues song “Hellhound on My Trail”

“A hellhound is a mythological hound that embodies a guardian or a servant of hell, the devil, or the underworld. Hellhounds occur in mythologies around the world, with the best-known examples being Cerberus from Greek mythology, Garmr from Norse mythology, the black dogs of English folklore, and the fairy hounds of Celtic mythology. Physical characteristics vary, but they are commonly black, anomalously overgrown, supernaturally strong, and often have red eyes or are accompanied by flames.” – Wikipedia

Shown here, “Goddess Hel and the Hellhound Garmr by Johannes Gehrts, 1889.” Garmr guards the gate of Hel in Norse Mythology.

In Greek mythology, Cerberus guards the gates of hell and is called the hound of Hades. Typically, the hound is portrayed with three heads as is the dog guarding the depths of Hogwarts as shown in the Harry Potter film. The hound guards Hades’s gate to keep people from getting out.

In the U.S., a hellhound is said to guard the hanging hills at  Meriden, Connecticut, and was first mentioned by W. H. C. Pychon  where he claimed that  “If you meet the Black Dog once, it shall be for joy; if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time shall bring death.” The trick here is keeping up with how often you’ve met one before.

Wolves, and their supernatural cousins, the hellhounds, are a universal theme in myths, legends, and ghost stories. “The Omen,” a supernatural horror film released in 1976 to both mixed reviews and commercial success focuses on the nasty big dog. It’s fair to say that the hound of the Baskervilles fits neatly into the hellhound category.

People ask which came first, the chicken or the egg? When it comes to hellhounds and other denizens, which came first, a natural fear of imagined things that go bump in the night or a fear of things that are “really out there” that we think may have come into your lives on a dark and stormy night?

I vote for the things really being out there.

–Malcolm

Memories of that First Cat

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn Life2 Comments

When I was a kid, I read The Hound of the Baskervilles and immediately became a “dog person.” I imagined becoming a famous writer who would live on an immense estate protected by supernatural and potentially unfriendly deer hounds.

Needles-Stairs-Xmas79My fiancée informed me I was going to become a “cat person.” Other than the expedient fact that she was a cat person, the practicalities of the matter were that large hounds don’t fit well in apartments. They need, if not moors, large yards.

So, about 30 years ago Needles became our cat because (a) a friend’s cat had a litter and the friend didn’t need more cats, and (b) the cat would prove one way or the other if I was “marriage material.” Needles got his name because he had sharp claws and, of all of our cats over the years, his temperament was probably the closest to the hound of the Baskervilles.

I could tell stories, but this is a family blog.

StockingsXMAS79Needles lived a long and adventurous life in Georgia, from Rome to Marietta to Smyrna to Norcross. When he crossed the rainbow bridge he was ancient. His final resting place is the farm where we now live just outside of Rome.

My wife likes to tell people that when Needles first arrived in our lives, I had a “what the hell do I do with that thing” kind of attitude. In my defense, I didn’t know nothing about no cats and didn’t know what they wanted or why they randomly freaked out and clawed the hell out of my arms. They’re possessed, I think, by random malevolences that haunt most neighborhoods.

Needles liked his blanket. He thought that no matter what infraction he committed (such as grabbing my ankle when I walked through a dark room), he was free and clear if he could just get back to that blanket. It was like home plate or a safe house.

Lesa and Needles in 1979
Lesa and Needles.

We had a deck at the Norcross town home that got so hot on sunny afternoons, we couldn’t walk out there in bare feet. Needles could lie out there for hours. Go figure.

By then I had learned that cats sleep 16 hours or more a day and thought (a) what a life, and (b) that at least they couldn’t jump out of dark shadows while they were asleep.

Bottom line, Needles was a hoot and somehow with him I passed the test and my fiancée and I were married in 1987 in a small ceremony in the living room of the friends who gave us our first cat.

My only regret is that saying “release the cats” doesn’t sound as cool as saying “release the hounds.”

–Malcolm

KIndle cover 200x300(1)Malcolm R. Campbell learned enough from Needles, Black Kitty, Orange Kitty, Marlo, Duncan and Katy to write a novella with a cat as a major character: “Conjure Woman’s Cat.”