Cyber Corpse 2
Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life
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Books by Frank Polite available at (click on title for reviews and ordering info):


HYDE, A Novella Noire

Heidi Zircoff's Boot
by Frank Polite

I first met Dr. Jung near the ski lift at Wildspitz
in the canton of Zug. He was there to speak
to a conference of Zeiss lens designers on the
relationship of their craft to the eastern mandala.
Imagine my fright; here was C.G. Jung, world-
renowned, hoary with wisdom, and I - merely
sixteen, a green slip of a girl, and wholly in awe
of him! I had devoured most of Jung's writings,
a lot of which I didn't nearly understand, but all I
had ever felt and thought Jung had articulated
in his theories - my life, as it were, in a blink
of his eye. Of course, I was precocious, insanely
so, barely able to control the flood of images
that assailed me, when I was captured by Jung's
theater of Archetypes, Shadow, Animus, Anima,
and so on. It fascinated and calmed me, knowing
that I was not alone in the phantasmagorias
of my mind. In the whiz-kid category I excelled,
perhaps, even Sabina Spielrein who was very
bright indeed. But that, as they say, is another
story, and unlike mine, not a very happy one.
Anyway, here was the great man and I was about
to be introduced to him. Understandably shy,
I began to edge toward the rear of the group that
surrounded Jung when, suddenly, I slipped on
a patch of ice and fell backward. I must have
let out a cry, I don't remember now, that caused
all attention to be focused on me. Jung, ever
the doctor, was immediately at my side inquiring
if I felt particular pains in my back and legs.
When my movements assured him that I wasn't
hurt, he helped me up and that was the moment
my mother stepped forward to introduce me.
"Dr. Jung, this is my daughter, Fraulein Heidi
Zircoff." Jung took my hand and was about to
greet me when a weird vibration ran up my right
leg. I looked down, and to my horror, a small
dog was rapidly humping my fur-lined boot.
Well, I was so shocked and embarrassed, I didn't
have the presence of mind to shake off the dog
or do anything except stand there mortified.
Time had stopped for me. The dog kept on
humping while I could only stare at Jung wide-
eyed and speechless. Jung looked at the dog,
and then at me - with those razory-blue eyes of
his - and said, "As you see, dear Heidi, the
Pomeranian and I are delighted to meet you."
Well, that sent up a howl of laughter from the
group, myself and Jung joining in, and the spell
was broken. A blitz of witticisms followed that
actually had us rolling in the snow. Mrs. Jung
said that the dog was obviously the renegade
analyst, Otto Gross, in a small furry suit.
"In that case," Dr. Von Franz said, "we must all
book analysis with Herr Doktor Dog at 5
milkbones an hour." Mr. Van Der Post said,
"At 5 boners an hour, I would not need an
analyst, but a splint." When the hilarity quieted
down, Jung said to me in mock seriousness,
"When your boot has puppies, we will all stand
as Godparents." That started it off again, an
avalanche of wit and laughter that escalated into
a terrific snowball fight. Oh yes, I almost forgot
- at some point I kicked off the boot and gave
it to the dog, which it continued to bang away on
oblivious to our human melee. Years later,
Jung told me that he had observed my "generous
spontaneity" marking me in his regard as a
special person. Imagine! a man rolling in the
snow being that keenly observant. Well, my first
meeting with Jung characterized our relation-
ship for the next 30 years - laughter and learning.
Under his guidance I took advanced degrees
in medicine, anthropology, religion, and, of course,
my years as a Jungian analyst. A footnote to
this story occurred at Jung's 80th birthday party
in Kusnacht. I presented him with the fur-
lined boot that had gotten itself so thoroughly
humped that day. I dyed the fur silver-gray and
attached eyes to it and a dog's nose and tail.
"Here is your Godson, Carl Gustav, to greet you
on your birthday." Frail as he was, Jung's
laugh shook the table. "Don't tell me, Heidi, he's
a Jungian analyst, practices in Hollywood,
and he's writing my biography from a dog's point
of view - no doubt, an 'unexpurgated Jung' to
boot." That broke up the whole table and the
witticisms started flying! Before I left, and it
was the last time I saw my beloved friend, Jung
kissed my hand and said, "If I get to Heaven, Heidi,
I'll tell the Pomeranian his family has prospered."
That was Jung, all forgot the original dog but him.

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