“How I Joined The Pack of The Scruffy Dog” by Beau Smith

As a kid, I always had my pockets filled with stuff, plastic army men, rocks, a pocketknife, hard candy, even frogs. (One alive and one expired, much to my mom's chagrin). I never seemed to have enough space or pockets for all my "equipment".

This lack of pockets plagued me through elementary school. There were always books to carry as well as my pockets full of contraband, pocket change, Milk Tickets, my special notebook where I wrote fictional accounts of me and my friends fighting off Aliens, dinosaurs and the Universal Monsters and anything shiny that caught my eye. Some kids carried their books in a pillowcase, but that wasn't for me. It wasn't until I reached junior high that I found the answer to cargo conundrum.

I had noticed one of the older kids at school wasn't burdened by hauling his books under his arm or stuffed in a pillowcase. He was carrying something that looked like the Army bags I saw WWII soldiers carrying in the war movies I saw on TV. The bag looked like it had been through a battle or two. I was so mesmerized that I worked up the nerve to ask him where he got it. His expression said "What's this runt want?" but soon changed when he saw me look at his bag with awe and admiration. He softened a bit and proudly told me that it was his dad's, who was in WWII, that he gave it to him to haul his books and gym clothes around in. I sighed that my Dad was too young to have been in WWII. I guess the guy felt sorry for me because he told me that there was an Army/Navy store downtown in our hometown of Huntington, West Virginia that sold all kinds of leftover military stuff like this bag, tents and stuff. He said he bet I could find one there cheap. My beady eyes lit up.

I had a mission.

I asked my dad to drive me downtown to Muth's Army Navy Store. The minute I walked in and smelled used canvas, slightly mildewed rubber and gun grease, I knew I was gonna like this place. To me it was like being in a locker-room museum of the military. I saw every kind of surplus clothing and equipment you could imagine. My eyes popped when I saw dummy grenades and bombs. Needless to say, my dad nixed that. He knew me and my two younger brothers would end up on the wrong end of trouble with those in our possession.

I took my time and looked over everything. I knew this place was going to be somewhere I visited a lot more. I had $5.00 that my Granny had sent me for my birthday and I wanted to make the best choice I could. I had been planning on this purchase for a while. I took inventory of the things I carried on a daily basis and added a cushion for any other possibilities that may pop up while in my travels. I pondered a backpack, but they were kinda big and I didn't wanna carry more than I weighed. I came to the Messenger Bags, the Map Cases and the Gas Mask Bags. I wanted to get the most bang for my buck. (Even without a grenade.)

I searched through a huge pile of bags. I ruled out most of the Map Cases. They were too slim and I knew I'd be carrying schoolbooks and comic books in it. Then I came across the Gas Mask Bags…WITH a Gas Mask!

I knew I had no real reason for a gas mask, but it would be so cool to wear when playing army outside or terrorizing, pranking friends and complete strangers. The next step was going through and finding the bag in the best condition. That meant really going over each bag in this tall, cluttered pile. These were World War II used bags. They smelled of war, at least to me. Some had stenciled writing on them with names and some even had where the soldiers wrote on them. I liked that and really learned to appreciate it more as I got older.

I finally found the right one. It had a real nice patina. (It'd be years before I really learned what that word meant. I've used it a lot since then. When describing myself.) The gas mask was in really good shape as well. It was like icing on my cake. After a final inspection, I decided that this one would more than cover my needs for my daily adventures, as well as shoving my lunch into it. It didn't smell too bad either. There is something about the aroma of stored warehouse canvas that says "Official."

The tag on it said $4.50. With my five dollars I figured I could cover the tax as well. I showed my dad, he gave his approval, and we took it to the guy at the cash register. (Non-electric back then). As he wrote it up he told me that the gas masks don't work so good if at all. No filters in them. He also suggested I use a little soap and water on it before I stormed any Nazi headquarters with my squad. I knew he was joking, but I still saw it all in my head and was inspired to play pretend with that idea. As he was putting it in a paper bag he told me to wait a second. He pulled out something from a box on the floor. It was another strap for the British MK VII Gas Mask Bag. The strap was in better shape than the one that came with the bag. He told me this one was on the house and would make a good back up for me. I thanked him and did many years later when the other strap had to be retired.

I paid the man with a crisp $5.00 bill. He gave me some change and told me to come again. I told him I would and I did for many years after that. They closed around when I was in college and here in 2026 I still miss that wonderful place.

The MK VII bag lasted me through college. For years I carried schoolbooks, a packed lunch, canteen, my writing notebooks, pens, six packs of beer, pencils, comic books, novels and the list goes on and on. I always had other guys ask me about it and where I got it. It was like I was not only a living advertisement for Muth's Army Navy Store, but for Military issue equipment as well. Military issue equipment lasts forever. It lasted so long you could hand it down to your own kids.

My MK VII Gas Mask Bag lasted until my last year in college and then it finally gave up the ghost. I had sewn, patched and duct taped it over and over, but it was time to retire it. Needless to say, I was shocked and honored when in the 80s, the first Indiana Jones movie came out. Seeing Harrison Ford sporting my same MK VII bag in the movie always makes me smile and brings back many memories of my time carrying that canvas creation of courage.

Through the years, I have carried and accumulated many other bags and backpacks for my 40 years of travel and work as a writer in comic books, TV, video games and film. (As well as everyday life.) It wasn't until a few years ago that I found myself feeling those same surplus store feelings while online and looking for yet another new bag to put to good use.

Once again, I was in the right place at the right time.

I saw a link on YouTube that said Scruffy Dog Trading Company. You had me at the word Dog. It described my dog, Eddie – The Merchant of Menace perfectly and he is indeed a scruffy dog.

It was a short, bouncy video that without words, showed you what you could pack with a Scruffy Dog Messenger Bag. It was easy on the eyes, to the point and just like the bag, no false frills, everything I needed and nothing I didn't. It was olive drab just like military issue and had one of the best logos ever on the front flap. It had that slightly distressed and used look, just enough creative room for whatever you would want to put in it. Washable and without a doubt, one of the most comfortable crossbody or shoulder straps you could ever wanna use all day long.

I ordered mine right then and never looked back. My Scruffy Dog Bag has been with me on almost every trip, convention, book signings that I've done in the last few years. It's a head turner. Everyone wants to know where I got it and I am always more than happy to tell them. Sometimes I think I know the Scruffy Dog pitch better than I do my latest graphic novel pitch.

I've taken mine on location set visits for my TV show, Wynonna Earp, to my book signings, to the largest pop culture convention in the world, San Diego Comic-Con and even my local post office here in Ceredo, West Virginia, Population 1400. Everyone knows me for my ball cap and my Scruffy Dog bag.

Yes, I have other bags, backpacks and such, but my Scruffy Dog is my go-to. It's like a part of my body, a little frayed around the edges, but can still carry the load.

The kind folks at Scruffy Dog Trading Company care about what they put their name on. They design their products and apparel with love and genuine care. It's all made to be used, worn and a companion for your life. I take that to heart. I think that if you believe in something and trust in it then you tell others about it. Share the wealth of knowledge, experience and trust.

It works for me and Scruffy Dog will work for you.

Beau Smith

The Flying Fist Ranch

Eddie

No. 1 Sidekick

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