Nov2012_SO WHATs BEEN HAPPENING
?
by Ryle Winn
I had a smart dog once, really smart. I could send him to muster 500/600 head of fairly quiet cattle out of a 3000 acre paddock on his own and be away for up to two hours and never miss a beast. During a muster he wouldn’t go under a fence into a neighbouring paddock but he would go through a deliberately open gate to fetch cattle out. Of course he was a kelpie.
by Ryle Winn
I had a smart dog once, really smart. I could send him to muster 500/600 head of fairly quiet cattle out of a 3000 acre paddock on his own and be away for up to two hours and never miss a beast. During a muster he wouldn’t go under a fence into a neighbouring paddock but he would go through a deliberately open gate to fetch cattle out. Of course he was a kelpie.
To balance it up a bit I’ve had about twenty other dogs that ranged from OK to useless. One even chose the vocation of ‘honorary hoover’ in the chookhouse. Yuck!
Kylie and Mick, daughter and son-in-law, own a brown dog that was supposed to be a kelpie but was/is a bloody idiot. To be fair he was a great kids’ dog until dementia set in. He’s about nine or ten years old … about the same age as me. I don’t mean infantile I mean in dog equivalent.
You know how some people get right in your face, take over, invade your personal space, get in the road, think they’re more important than anybody else, well that’s Mitch. Even a gentle prod with the toe of a thong, or something, serves no purpose.
But the poor bugger is losing his marbles.
Of late I have been remodeling and repainting the outside of Kylie’s and Mick’s house and enjoying it immensely. I like working on my own even if sometimes things are a bit awkward or strenuous. So, one day, I was dragging a heavy plank, 300x40x6000 through a little patch of rain forest in their front yard and was having a bit of a tussle with it. I tucked one end under my armpit, clamped my arm around it and dragged it on its edge until I had to drop it on its flat side and slide it through under some low branches.
Hell it was heavy. Too heavy. Or I was getting weak. Or it was caught on something?
Then as the branches and foliage parted here was Mitch riding it like a Malibu board in a tube. He didn’t bother getting off. Probably waiting for the next wave.
Who’s losing their marbles? Me or the dog?
PS For those who haven’t read my book ‘When a Tree Falls’ do yourself a good turn. It traces my family from 1849 to the present day. But it’s more than that. It’s a cameo of developing Pine Rivers through my families’ eyes from trials and tribulations, relative prosperity to bitter annihilation at the hands of the authorities. I just hope it doesn’t happen to anybody else. Available at the IGA.
Kylie and Mick, daughter and son-in-law, own a brown dog that was supposed to be a kelpie but was/is a bloody idiot. To be fair he was a great kids’ dog until dementia set in. He’s about nine or ten years old … about the same age as me. I don’t mean infantile I mean in dog equivalent.
You know how some people get right in your face, take over, invade your personal space, get in the road, think they’re more important than anybody else, well that’s Mitch. Even a gentle prod with the toe of a thong, or something, serves no purpose.
But the poor bugger is losing his marbles.
Of late I have been remodeling and repainting the outside of Kylie’s and Mick’s house and enjoying it immensely. I like working on my own even if sometimes things are a bit awkward or strenuous. So, one day, I was dragging a heavy plank, 300x40x6000 through a little patch of rain forest in their front yard and was having a bit of a tussle with it. I tucked one end under my armpit, clamped my arm around it and dragged it on its edge until I had to drop it on its flat side and slide it through under some low branches.
Hell it was heavy. Too heavy. Or I was getting weak. Or it was caught on something?
Then as the branches and foliage parted here was Mitch riding it like a Malibu board in a tube. He didn’t bother getting off. Probably waiting for the next wave.
Who’s losing their marbles? Me or the dog?
PS For those who haven’t read my book ‘When a Tree Falls’ do yourself a good turn. It traces my family from 1849 to the present day. But it’s more than that. It’s a cameo of developing Pine Rivers through my families’ eyes from trials and tribulations, relative prosperity to bitter annihilation at the hands of the authorities. I just hope it doesn’t happen to anybody else. Available at the IGA.
