The Love of Dogs

Mark Twain wrote; "If there are no dogs in heaven then I'm going where they go"

I've not know life without a dog, as a little kid growing up on a farm we always had dogs, working dogs that is. Dad would always say, "don't sook that dog", which meant don't show the dog affection or it will forget what it has been taught and loose some of its aggression for the work. The dogs lived outside, if they were not working they were on a chain outside their kennel which was an old drum on its side and in winter had a hession bag hanging on the front. Dogs were tools, another piece of machinery on the farm, kept in tip top condition.   They were fit, well fed, lean and hard and they spent hours every day rounding up cattle. When work was finished the were put on the chain, given a pat, told they were great and thrown a piece of meat. Well done - good dog.

The first dog I remember was Bluey. My dad was quite original in his naming of dogs, what colour is it, thats its name - Bluey, Snowy, Coco, Smokey. Bluey was a top dog, like the best around and everyone knew it. He was efficient and quick, he was intuitive and studied each beast and knew exactly what they would do. Back then on a dairy farm there were three months a year when all the cows were heavily pregnant and they would be dry, giving no milk, just waiting for their calves to drop. There is no secret to planning around that time of year leading into spring in the southern hemisphere, I was born in June, my sister in July and my older brother in August. Bluey, well he couldn't stand not working for three months and found his own work with the young heifers in the far paddock rounding them into a corner then chasing them out, over and over. I came home from school one day, walked down to the milking shed where mum and dad were working, Bluey wasn't there, he was always there. I spotted the shovel against the wall, fresh dirt and grass stuck to it, I knew hat had happened, no questions needed. That was farm life, I cried but I didn't let anyone see.

A dog sees its only purpose as to please its chosen human; bad day, good day, a dog didn't care it will still wag its tail and be happy to see you. When I came to the city, well I was dragged to the city as a 13 year old we were not allowed to have a dog. Dad believed dogs were for working and a backyard suburban block were no place for a dog. Dad took us kids to the city to give us a better chance at life and I had to agree with him eventually. The city was the first time I saw little dogs, poodles, sausage dogs,  chihuahuas - how ridiculous and what would you have a dog that didn't work. Excuse the french but  - fuck what's that all about.


When I left home and got my own house, well bugger that, dogs were for loving and they were for company and yes they were for protection so I justified in my mind they were still working at something. Along came Agro the German Shepherd, I would use him as a pillow watching TV, the kids would ride on his back as babies and pull his teeth as toddlers. He was an absolute star at obedience training but by god, if another dog came near his family then you needed ropes and chains, that boy would fight at the drop of a hat and many times protected the children.

 Then after Agro and the sadness of loosing him came Sam, he was a lover not a fighter. A Golden Retriever that was happy just to sit beside your chair. He became the household paper shredder, I could give him a company memo I had read and he would very gently take it out into the back yard and tear into shreds. It was a pleasure to work from home with Sam, he was always quiet and always beside me unless of course he was in his bed sleeping which was always hard to tell as the backyard chickens always slept with him and covered him.  Sam made it to the farm with me, I promised him in old age I'd get him there before he died and he lasted just 2 more months until I had to put him down. I buried him up on the hill still in his bed in a grave yard I marked out for all the great pets to rest.

Then came Bob, had he lived a full life they would have made a movie about that dog. The People's Dog, he was called. When I wasn't home he would go up the hill off the farm to different neighbour's houses and tap on their doors to see if they were alright, once they replied then off to the next house he would go. When the neighbours had their grand kids over he would proudly sit and be dressed as a girl, drink tea and pose for an hour or so to be painted. Every afternoon he would wait up the hill for the sound of my truck coming, it's like he could tell the time, he would sprint through neighbour's yard back to the farm and sit quietly in the porch like he had been there all day.  He slept beside my bed on the floor, my hand hanging down onto his head and if I moved so would he until I was touching him again. Unfortunately it was on one of his visits he came a cross a rabbit and in pursuit ran in front of a car. I buried him also up on the hill next to old  Sam.

Now there is Wally. There is also Fatty whom is an integral part of the Wally story. Devastated after Bob died I thought I'd never have another dog, I was determined not to go through the heartache again. But I love dogs so the search was on for a very particular coloured Australian Shepherd. Wally arrived on a plane after the exchange of many photos and videos, I knew he was the one.  If you haven't seen my YouTube Channel then follow this link to see me attempt the 22 Push Up challenge for 22 days in a row with wally The Push Up Challenge    After that challenge at 6 months of age Wally became paralysed when he ran into a nest of paralysis ticks and got 5 together just under his jaw. Within half and hour he was vomiting and by the time I got to the vets he was completely paralysed. Something inside him told him to fight and despite the vet's warning he might die he was home in a week running freely. Then a few months later just before his 1st birthday he ran under my truck and his head went into the road and he suffered instant bleeding to the brain. I picked him up,  again paralysed but this time not breathing. I cupped my hands around his nose and gave him mouth to mouth/nose until I heard gurgling in his chest. Off to the vet like a maniac, covered in his blood they told me he was non responsive and that they would just give him a couple of hours on oxygen and see what happened. The next morning one eye started to respond to light, 2 days later he moved a leg. He was moved from my small country town to a vet hospital in the city where he spent another few weeks undergoing every test imaginable for a dog. There were no broken bones, and the tests showed there was still chance and 3 weeks later thanks to the most brilliant vets he could come home. "We don't know what sort of dog you will have, he can't walk without aid and he can't see but he may improve", they said. What was I to do. I loved him so I got a Labrador, a seeing eye dog for him and I waited. The day he came home he just kept falling over, he was like some mummy from a horror movie. Was I being cruel or was I giving him a chance?  Wally's home.

But animals don't have a bargaining instinct, they don't lay there wondering if they want to go on with those horrendous injuries, they don't think about giving up, they just fight to live. Two years on now Wally if fully recovered except for one eye that doesn't quiet rotate like it should. The bloody dog is a fighter for sure. Fatty his Labrador mate, well Wally has become his protector. Fatty is not so bright when it comes to animals that kick and he never seems to learn, he will quite happily sit in the path of a charging cow, lick the back of a deadly snake or watch and angry alpaca try to stomp him but Wally is always to the rescue, rushes in, crosses the path, fraughts the attack and leads Fatty off.

So Wally and Fatty are my Boys, well actually I think I'm their boy. Except when Wally has a day like this and goes out in the canoe by himself. Then he is not so much, my 'boy'.  Watch this video

We think we choose dogs, the truth is they choose us. I've always been told that dogs are a good judge of character, it's more I think that dogs can see into people's hearts and know if there is kindness and caring there. They choose to love us, it's unconditional, it's our privilege to have a dog's love and when we get it we should never take it for granted.