When I made the trip from Saskatchewan to Alberta for school, I left most of my childhood possessions behind. I was, from a young age, a hoarder.
“But Mom, you can’t throw that out!” I’d protest. “Who knows when I’ll need the results from that math test?”
So when I moved, I left behind a full closet of old school notebooks and comic books. My parents eventually made the move from Saskatchewan to British Columbia, and on the way dropped off multiple big blue bins full of – I’ve come to terms with it – junk.
Sifting through the piles, I found notebooks full of scribbles, old Spider Man merchandise and inexplicable cassette tapes. I, at one point, apparently purchased the Flubber soundtrack.
I also found the treasure trove – 12 bound issues of a comic book series I viewed as a legitimate business enterprise in elementary school.
I called it “Copdog” and served as publisher, writer, illustrator and fan mail correspondent. The labour was extensive – at age seven, my access to a printing press was limited, so each copy of each issue was a laborious hand-crafted process of tracing the original copy in pencil multiple times. This was especially difficult for the one-time 48-page “blowout edition.”
Based on the name, you may have guessed the subject matter already. The series followed an anthropomorphic dog, who as a vocation, served as a cop.
Each issue was priced at $1 (or, as the cover proclaimed, “The low, low price of $1!”) and I’d hustle them on the schoolyard while other kids exercised and socialized.
I had a devout following of more than three monthly readers. After reading each latest issue, one particularly ardent fan would approach and ask what next month’s issue might be about. In a very serious and severe fashion, I’d make clear I couldn’t give away future plot points.
Such as it was, the plot revolved around notorious serial thief Ralph Garrett (he was a duck) who constantly foiled attempts by the local police to capture him. At one point, he launched a bid for the United States presidency.
I was certain I was cornering the comic book market in Grades 1 to 5 until I heard word of a rival publication making the rounds in the hallway. The news came as even further of a shock when I heard it was my childhood best friend who had launched the new series.
But I was willing to share trade secrets with him – surely, there was room for more than one local publication. Perhaps we could even one day collaborate on a crossover issue?
So I inquired as to the content of the new series. He nodded excitedly and brought me over to his desk, where he was hard at work shading in colour with his crayons (already a step up from my black-and-white). I glanced at the title – “Firecat.”
His series followed a cat, who as a vocation, served as a firefighter. The similarities between our two publications did not seem to be immediately apparent to him.
“What are you doing? You’re copying me,” I said.
He looked down at his drawings then up at me.
“What do you mean? The names are different and he is a cat.”
In the end, neither publication ended up enjoying the longevity of some of the more notable comic series. But who knows? Hollywood loves reboots – and they can have this one, as the cover said, for the low, low price of $1.
