THE STUFFING OF DREAMS

By CALVIN TRILLIN

I've been avoiding comment on the stuffed-gopher museum in Torrington, Alberta. At first I tried to cover up my silence with a little bluster. "When presidential candidates start talking about the long-term effects of unchecked entitlement programs," I said to my wife, "I'll start talking about the stuffed-gopher museum in Torrington, Alberta."

Then Dick Lamm entered the race, in a manner of speaking, and started talking about the long-term effects of unchecked entitlement programs. "It isn't necessary to comment on every new museum that comes along," I said. "You don't see Bob Dole at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

Then Dole went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, leaving himself open to unlimited Lawrence Welk jokes and leaving me with little excuse for failing to deal with the stuffed-gopher museum in Torrington, Alberta.

I had been stalling since early June, when Torrington, a tiny community with access to a bit of tourist-development money from the province, opened the Gopher Hole Museum. Extrapolating from the area's limited renown for an overabundance of gophers, whose destructive burrowing has always brought armed retaliation from local farmers, the museum used stuffed gophers to portray daily life in Torrington. "In 31 displays," according to the Associated Press, "54 gophers play hockey and Little League baseball, get a hairdo, preach a sermon, shoot pool in the local tavern...even rob a bank, with the teller told, 'Put your paws up!'"

Well, naturally, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals suggested in its magazine that animal lovers voice their objections to the mayor of Torrington, Harold Ehrman, and, naturally, Mayor Ehrman said the activists could "go stuff themselves." And, naturally, my wife asked me if I intended to take a stand.

And, naturally, I tried to avoid it, knowing I'd be attacked no matter what I did. I know that because a while back, when I happened to observe that corgis looked as if they had been assembled from parts discarded by other breeds, owners of Pembroke corgis attacked me for spreading a description that fit only Cardigan corgis, and owners of Cardigan corgis said the same thing about Pembrokes. You can't win these arguments with animal people.

Then, even before Dole hip-hopped over to the rock-'n'-roll museum, I heard on CBC radio about bowling with frozen chickens in Wellington, New Zealand. The interviewee was the marketing manager of a pub called the Fat Ladies' Arms. (No, I don't want to comment on that name right now.)

I pictured this pub as full of young fun lovers who use "party" as a verb. One night a week, customers bowl with frozen chickens. At least the chickens start out frozen. So much for the common belief among Americans that there's not a whole lot to do in Wellington, New Zealand.

The animal-rights protest to this activity was almost too faint for anyone but a marketing manager to hear, but faintly is how these issues begin. It may be only a matter of time before everyone will have to take a stand on deceased animals. Is it respectful, for instance, for Roy Rogers to display his horse Trigger stuffed in a noble pose but disrespectful for Torrington to display a stuffed gopher robbing a bank? (Burrowing, after all, is not a felony.)

The candidates' response is easy enough to predict. Dick Lamm will say older gophers have to face death like everyone else. Bill Clinton will feel for those little gophers. Bob Dole's comment will be, "Probably the other thing, or whatever." But how about me?