A huge Saint Bernard named Cujo used to be very kind to those around him. Even if they sometimes put not very pleasantly smelling feet on him. So what? People were still very good and sometimes even scratched his neck. Oh, how unbearably itchy it sometimes was there! Wasn’t it worth giving little master Brett Camber a ride on his back for that? Or guarding his father Joe’s workshop.
Cujo had been chasing a hare for a good five minutes already. That tailed gray backside was so temptingly flickering ahead of the Saint Bernard that, despite being moderately well-fed, he did not want to lose the contest and wanted to catch the long-eared one at any cost. There! Just a couple more leaps and … Damn! The hare jumped into a little burrow-cave that for some reason no one had noticed before. Without stopping, Cujo plunged after it and got stuck. And in the cave IT lived. Lots of bones lay scattered chaotically at the bottom of the burrow. A strange smell, Cujo sneezed. Neeed toooo geeet ouuut of heeere. Cujo twisted his hindquarters. And then IT bit the dog right on the nose. Tears burst from his eyes. From far away came the painfully familiar cry: “Cuuujo! Come home!”