St. Bernard with a Keg

The other night I had a psychedelic flashback. Not that I've ever dropped acid or done mushrooms (I might've smoked some pot, but I never inhaled. Or maybe I was too stoned to remember. Whatever!), but a sudden memory blew into my mind like smoke that was never exhaled. Something I'd thought I'd left behind in my childhood alongside my teddy bear (don't judge me!)... An indelible image imprinted upon my gullible mind by those most insidious (but fun!) educators of children: cartoons... 

Of course, I'm talking about the Saint Bernard with a keg of booze tied around his neck.

I gasped at the recollection, and asked my wife, "Honey, is there any truth behind the myth of the Saint Bernard rescuing people with his keg of hooch?"

She hemmed and hawed, said no at first, then said maybe, but she really couldn't be certain, then again...

I kinda tuned her out and decided to go directly to the "Cliff's Notes" version of the world-wide intronets, Wikipedia.

And Ms. Wikipedia hemmed and hawed, too.

Let's look at what I had to sift through...

This very important history lesson (don't let anyone ever, ever tell you cartoons don't edumacate!) dates back to 1707, where monks from the Great St. Bernard Hospice (located at the Great St. Bernard Pass in Switzerland) actually did use the first of this breed to rescue avalanche victims. The dogs' incredible talents included finding buried people and digging them out. When they didn't have the strength to do that, or were too cold, they'd come back barking at the monks: "Timmy's fallen in the snow and is buried again!"

Alas, according to the monks, though, the tales about the brandy cask were nothing but a myth. Actually, the monks seemed a little peeved about this "legend," griping that the whole shebang started with an 1820 painting by Edwin Landseer (possibly the painting entitled, Alpine Mastiffs Reanimating a Distressed Traveler, which just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?). Of course, this didn't stop the monks from keeping lookalike barrels on hand for tourists to snap photos of, although I kinda think the barrels might've "fortified" the monks, as well. I mean, what else are they gonna do?

Deflated, I sadly tucked the image of a St. Bernard carrying a keg of booze through the Alps into my mind's drawer, thus sticking a pin into the balloon of my childhood education.  

But hold on, let's not be so hasty here!

One must attend to the story of the star St. Bernard of the hospice, Barry! Barry rescued anywhere between 40 to 100 lives. Seemingly untiring, Barry would travel to the most perilous locations and did so for a period of twelve years. Good dog! 

For his efforts, after he passed, the monks stuffed him and shoved his carcass into a Berney museum. Where a small phial of brandy that he used to revive distressed travelers still hangs around his neck. Something the monks don't want you to know about! Cover up! Fake news!

Hallelujah! My faith in cartoons is restored!

Anyway... if I ever get avalanched, I want a big ol' St. Bernard to find me and offer me an even bigger ol' keg of brandy, because (and science will side with me on this), the best thing for a freezing, buried person is to get drunk!

While we're on the topic of overwhelming snow, why not pour yourself a sifter of brandy, get cozy in front of the fireplace, and read what happens to a disparate group of travelers during a hella Winter storm in Dread and Breakfast? It's the perfect horror thriller for this bleak, long Winter, even though not a single life-saving St. Bernard appears.