The Dingo is the
embodiment of a free and natural spirit; independent, noble and aloof,
dignified and graceful, quiet and reflective; an animal of tremendous loyalty
and compassion for members of their family group or the human fortunate enough
to have earned the trust and love of this most intriguing native
Australian.
There are countless
tales of the devotion of the Dingo to a mate caught in a trap, poisoned, or
incapacitated in some way;
of
a bitch deliberately making a target of herself to decoy a would-be enemy from
her helpless pups; not aggressive enough to attack, but courageous enough to
die for those she loves.
Over the many years I
have been privileged to share with my Dingoes, I have been continually amazed
at the breed's devotion to a loved one, the ability to question and reason, but
nothing has affected me so completely as Dora's love for Joker.
Our young Dingo Dora,
and our elderly Cattle Dog Joker (Champion Wooleston Blue Joker C.D.) had been
running together for four years (but not bred), Dora showing her adoration
for Joker in every
conceivable manner at all times, he accepting her devotion with pride,
jealously guarding her from rivals - real or imagined.
It had been obvious that Joker's sight was
failing, and on several occasions at dusk he had run into a closed gate
thinking it open. One night I arrived
home late after a meeting, and Joker and Dora were still running in the grass
enclosure. I opened the kennel door, calling to them. Dora ran straight in, but Joker held
back. She returned to him and tried to
shepherd him over to, and through, the gateway.
He came close, but would not attempt to enter the yard, jumping up and
down in confusion, uncertain as to whether the gate really was open. Again and
again Dora ran behind him, coming up close to his side, her neck cradling his
face to encourage him to move forward with her guidance.
Continuing in her
efforts to inspire confidence, she became increasingly agitated at his obvious
fear and confusion. My fatigue
forgotten, I watched in astonishment and pride, the desperate efforts of this
Dingo bitch to assist her mate. Fondling
his face with her muzzle,
her every movement
displaying her increasing concern, she glanced appealingly at me, then back to
Joker. Going to him I gently lifted him into the kennel yard, his safe arrival
greeted by an overjoyed Dora who ran to him and embraced him, then to me, her
incredibly beautiful eyes mirroring the gratitude she felt in my helping her
loved one.
In the Dingo, I so often
see acts of compassion, tenderness and kindness; characteristics so often
lacking in our own society. Is it this
distinctive quality that reminds man of his own inadequacies, jealously blinding
him in a fury of brutality and hate for that which he cannot, or will not,
accept? It is sad that the very qualities that endear the Dingo to so many are,
through ignorance, the cause of much of the intolerance and prejudice in
others. Perhaps through a better understanding of the Dingo, we will better
understand ourselves.
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