My Poor Fur Cloak Gone Mad

Baron Munchausen's poor fur cloak

A time comes in even the bravest sportsman's life when he must turn tail to save himself. That is what I did one day when a mad dog came at me full speed in a narrow street in Saint Petersburgh. Run who can, thought I, in no mood to be bitten, for the madness is very catching, as everyone knows. The better to run, I threw off my fur cloak, and in an instant I was safe within doors.

Later I sent Bruce my servant out after the cloak. He got it and put it in the wardrobe with my other clothes.

Imagine my fright and astonishment when Bruce started bawling: "Sir, your fur coat is mad!"

I hastened to the wardrobe, and the fellow was perfectly right: That dog must have bitten my poor fur cloak, and given it the madness. Why else would the cloak be falling upon my other clothes, trying to tear them to pieces? I took it firmly by the collar just as it started to toss a fine velvet suit unmercifully. I locked it up in another wardrobe all alone, with no other clothes to torment. There it stayed until the madness passed and it was its good old well-behaved self again.