Berenice Walters, the Dingo Lady, spent her adult life fighting the Dingoes’ cause. This Blog is a tribute to her work to have the Dingo recognised as Australia’s native dog and as an important part of the Australian ecosystem. Berenice was dedicated to educating the general public about the attributes of these wonderful primitive dogs.
Wednesday, 16 November 2016
In The Pooh by Graham Anderson
Cooma, the "white rat"- photo C Johnson
So you think you would like to have a Dingo as a pet. This fun story by Graham Anderson may just give you inkling into what you are in for …………
Chris had gone to Queensland to work for the weekend and had added an extra day to visit the Barrier Reef. It was top weather so after mowing the lawn and having a shower, I decided to laze and read a book.
All the dogs, 3 German Shepherds and a pair of dingoes, were in the back-yard which is divided to keep the wild ones, Mingga and Cooma, apart.
Cooma was in the top yard with Saxon and had been a pain looking for Chris. She is a weird dog, she haunts me all the time, can't even go to the loo without it waiting outside the door. Yet, if Chris is gone overnight, she gets the wanders and drives me mad prowling around.
Anyway, I had my feet up enjoying a decent book, when the doorbell rang. A bloke from up the street says to me "Your white dog is eating our baked dinner".
Can't be ours, Cooma is in the back yard, I thinks to myself. "Our dog is in the yard" I tells him, then the doubt set in.
"Hang on a mo, I'll get her” says I going out the back.
Hell. No white rat. Cooma had absconded, using the wheel-barrow to get up and over the dog-proofing.
Worried, I followed the guy to his home in time to see a white flag disappearing further up the street, the rear end of Cooma. I yelled out her name, she turned to me, grinned and bolted. Obviously she had finished the Sunday lamb. Later I learned the beast had gone in through the window, selected the juicy leg and refused to let the elderly couple carve it until she had consumed almost the lot.
Apologising, I raced home for my bike and another dog and spent hours riding around in the hope Cooma would run to us. I only caught a distant glimpse as she soared over somebody's back fence.
I went home and worried. Chris will kill me.
She won't talk to me - maybe never. For a while I was depressed then a glimmer of light. No more finding dingo-sitters if we went out for a night. No more worrying about Mingga and Cooma having a blue. Hell, no more frustrating walks with white rat sniffing and hunting all the way.
Life without Cooma would have its high points. By now I felt smug and picked up my book to lose myself in its pages. Cooma was forgotten - until a knock on the door.
It was a very dear friend who lived a couple of doors up, he was in his seventies and sometimes he and his wife would borrow our German Shepherd Tempe so folks would think they had a bodyguard.
Cooma was playing with his wife and checking out the canaries. Surely she wasn't still hungry? Looking for dessert? Off I hurried. Cooma for some reason didn't jump the fence out of their back yard. Guess she had had her exercise for the day and was read y to come home.
The white rat lived up to its name. It took one look at me, yapped and began speeding around the yard, flying through the sunflowers, the sweet-peas, the runner beans, the cabbage patch, me in pursuit. The beast knew I, wouldn't clamber through the vegie patch.
Eventually she slowed down and stood laughing and panting, an evil glint in her eyes. Before I could put the lead on, Cooma spun, leaped and landed in a 40 gallon drum filled to the brim with liquid manure. What a stench. Cooma treated itlike Channel No 5. Thoroughly covered except for her ear tips, she jumped out, shook and came to me.
Embarrassed wasn't the word. My dear friends laughed heartily, but worse was to come. I tried to sneak home but all the neighbours were out. Cooma was delighted, trotting along, tail stiffly erect so everybody would know who was in charge, and it sure wasn't me.
I considered placing an advert to find her somewhere else to live.
Loves roast dinners, canaries and liquid manure. Comes with full guarantee to get rid of your best friends and any unwanted neighbours. Excellent for turning over the garden, aerating the soil and convincing neighbours you do need that new 12 foot fence on your boundary. Main virtue is it does not snore and makes an excellent foot warmer.
Unfortunately, Chris wouldn't be in it. At present Cooma is six years old. Only another ten years before she settles down and is ready to sleep 23 1/2hours out of 24 on my bed instead of 18 hours sleep and 6 hours of activity.