Aviation Memorabilia Newsletter

Norm Foster is sharing yet another of his memories with us –

His name was Cy.

A second name was not necessary because when you said that you were flying with Cy, any Toronto pilot knew who you meant; Cy was special.

Like many of his peers, Cy had served in the RCAF in WW2. Perhaps it was this background that caused so many of these pilots to carry into TCA certain idiosyncrasies. In any case, Cy certainly did. But his was different, he had an imaginary dog that flew with him on every trip.

Although harmless, the experience of flying with Cy was strangely eerie, albeit humorous. When he entered the flight planning office for pre-flight preparations, the room became electric waiting to see who had drawn the short straw and would be joining Cy on the flight deck. Not a word in this regard was spoken by other crews in the room, and only sly glances and knowing smiles were exchanged.

Even if there was no need for words, each would expect a complete report on the experience the next time they saw you. Having been the recipient of such reports, I was prepared for a rather unique trip. I was not disappointed.

The series of flight legs was uneventful until the last one, which terminated the sequence in London, Ontario. There, along with two flight attendants, we would spend the night at a local motel. It was during this leg, in the dark, that I finally met 'Rover'!

I was about to reduce power and start our descent when I detected a low growl. Realizing that it would be coming from Cy, I didn’t react, but simply continued with my descent procedures. Next came Cy’s loud and demanding command. “Rover, be quiet!" This was followed shortly with “Rover, just lie there and be quiet!”

All this was directed at the empty space between our seats. “Rover seems a little restless tonight.”…this time directed at me. My landing at London was subpar, but I was just happy to be on the ground.

Standard operating procedure on arrival at the motel was for the crew, after check-in, to meet in the dining room for a late evening meal before bed. Hardly had we settled into our seats with our menus when the manager inquired if I was First Officer Foster, as there was a long distance call for me. His insistence that I remain at the table and he would bring a phone on a lengthy extension cord should have raised a red flag.

Unfortunately not, and with the flight attendants seated on each side of me, and Cy directly across, they all watched intently as I picked up the receiver. There was only a short pause after my opening “Hello?” when there came a terrific howl like that of a wounded canine in its death throes!

I froze, and then slowly lowered the phone. “Who was it? Asked Cy, more in the way of a demand than a request. Although they couldn’t have heard the sound, the shocked look on my face required an explanation. I had none. The guys from the morning dispatch office had timed it perfectly and I was left stammering and blubbering. To this day I don’t recall what I said in way of explanation, but somehow I survived.

Soon after, Cy transferred to a more senior aircraft and more mature and experienced F/O’s. It was while flying with one of these captain trainees that the inevitable happened. With the onset of darkness, Cy began admonishing Rover. “I told you to stay down! Just lie there and be quiet!” With this, the F/O engaged the auto-pilot. Slowly, but deliberately he reached into his flight bag, and producing an imaginary revolver, took dead aim between the seats. .....“Bang! Bang!”……..The F/O replaced the imaginary revolver and turning to Cy declared…..”There! I shot your damn dog!”

Epilogue:
Cy completed a lengthy and successful career and Rover never reappeared.