This story is about the time that Abdel, myself and our Kelpie Rocky went on a weekend trip to Dwellingup.
This is what I describe as a rather childish story containing adult content with the animals swearing and doing adult type stuff like look at dirty doggy magazines. Some rather rude and uncouth spiders have also made an appearance and swear quite a bit as well.
If you do not believe in talking/swearing animals then it really is best to look away now because if think that you may be offended then you are only choosing to offend yourself by reading this article and for that, I cannot take responsibility.
This story is purely to indulge your inner child and imagination because we all know that our animals can talk, we just have to chose to listen to them.
The drive to Dwellingup
‘Are we there yet?’ Demanded Rocky as he sat literally quivering with excitement at the back of the car.
‘’No, we are not – we are in Beeliar, precisely a few kms since leaving home’ I sighed. This was going to be a long journey.
‘Shit, what’s that!’ Rocky shouted an hour later at the pile of silvery/cream/dark feathers and absurdly long legs lying squashed along the road.
‘Dead Emu’ I replied whilst turning my neck to have a good look – Jesus that must have bent the hell out of someones car.
‘My god, what’s that?’ Rocky shrieked in a high pitched ‘girls’ voice that sounded like he was having his testicles squeezed – oh, he doesn’t have testicles so think ‘choir boy’.
‘Dead Wallaby’ Abdel said and then added ‘Did you see it?’.
I hadn’t, I was in too much awe of the scenery, the red soil, the magnificently tall trees that made everything quite insignificant in comparison. It also amused me that we had already lost signal on the GPS and on our phones and had to rely on a sense of direction and a printed Google map.
We were only 90 minutes out of Perth and we kept intermittently picking the local radio station that sounded a bit ‘countrified’ to me – I always refer to it as ‘radio nowhere’ where you are in the middle of nowhere and pick up various radio stations as you drive along and it sounds all very crackly. But then again small things have always amused me, that was until I started thinking ‘Wolf-creek’ but then had to mentally slap myself, it was Dwellingup for goodness sake, not the middle of nowhere.
I mean, what could possibly threaten us in Dwellingup?
There was a distinct difference in shops though, local taverns seemed almost backward compared to other parts of Perth and some of the shops reminded me of the set in ‘Back to the Future 3’ with the Western theme and I half expected to see ‘Mad Dog Tanion’ wearing cowboy boots shouting out ‘Hey, McFly!’
‘Are we there yet?’ Rocky shouted again from the back seat.
‘No!’ Abdel and I said in unison.
The car rattled along the unsealed road, digging up clouds of red dust behind it – it rather reminded me of Metricup except Metricup was worse and I am still surprised Abdel came home with his windscreen in tact as the pebbles/stones appeared to have been thrown out of nowhere as we drove along the road and bounced off the car.
‘This is not bad at all’ Rocky said, appearing to make a mental note of where he could lift his leg as soon as he could, where he could take a shit and better still – he had spotted the lake and was wondering just whether or not he could swim across without being eaten by god knows what – would there be crocs in there? He wondered, he hoped there wouldn’t as that would ruin his plans to do ‘Baywatch Dog’ and hopefully save some hot bitches from drowning.
We were met by the owner, a very friendly older lady – well I say older, she was older than me but saying that – I am feeling pretty elderly myself and all I need is a blue rinse and incontinence and I am there, especially if you see my medication pile (just call me Ethel if you like except I do not wear big knickers).
‘I have two dogs – and both of them like us (referring to herself and her husband), are getting old’
‘I know that feeling’ I muttered to no one in particular.
‘Hi there!’ A strong Australian (dog) accent came from behind the security door as a grizzled and senior German shepherd dog grinned – he obviously didn’t get to see too many people as he was absurdly excited by our arrival yet still managed to do the obligatory guard dog bark which in elderly dogs always sounds a touch ‘rusty’ and in our neighborhood, always appear to be heard at around 11pm barking at drunk people.
‘Drive to chalet no: 4 and I will meet you there’ the woman instructed Abdel and beckoned where he had to go, then she and I just walked over the grass to get there.
Hearing the revving of an engine and the scattering of very slippery red pebbles and stones, I could see Abdel’s commodore almost digging a hole with its tyres.
‘Slowly, slowly!’ She yelled to Abdel and then sighed and shook her head and muttered ‘Townies, they don’t understand country driving’. Rocky was cringing in the back telling Abdel that he ought to know better and to give him the keys and he will get the commodore up the drive himself with no issues. But of course Rocky cannot drive – well not counting the time he was caught hooning in my Yaris in Fremantle one time but the least said about that episode the better especially as he had several bitches in the car flashing their teats.
‘Sorry!’ Rocky mouthed in embarrassment to the tatty German shepherd at the gate and then shrugged his shoulders in a ‘oh the shame’ kind of way and shook his head and slunk down the back of the car to hide himself which didn’t work as all you could see were two huge satellite-like kelpie ears sticking out like military radar from the back window of the car.
Our chalet was beautiful – it had everything that we needed but we had been given strict instructions that Rocky was not allowed in the bedroom or on the sofa – which was fine, well not really, Rocky was mightily cheesed off about this especially when I told him he would have to sleep on the verandah outside, this resulted in a huge row about how he contributes to society by defecating in the garden on the roses, except that we don’t have roses, and when that didn’t work, he tried playing the ‘disabled card’ because of his hip dysplasia and that was pretty low, even for Rocky and when those pleas were ignored, he turned to using somewhat abusive language that went something like ‘Cruel bitch’, ‘kelpie abuser’ and my particular favourites ‘Hip Clicker’ and ‘turd legs’ and ‘Is it cos I am a black dog? in an Ali G type voice’
In the end I relented as that first night turned out to be exceptionally cold and windy and round about 1am while I was up watching TV, the wind howled outside and Rocky pretended to be unconscious inside and the thought of putting my little kelpie outside filled me with dread and I had visions of him blowing around and being found in Pinjarra the next day. This fear was not helped by Rocky doing Stephen Hawkings impressions on his bed and bending his limbs to the point I thought that he might break something.
‘OK, you can stay here!’ I sighed and as if by magic, my ‘disabled kelpie’ rolled on to his back with his hind legs spread apart, one front paw bent and the other stretched rigid to the sky in a ‘super dog’ pose.
‘Thank you!’ Rocky said, grinning. Bastard, he had played me like a fiddle that dog.
Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself as usual, something I am often guilty of – now where was I? Oh yes, we were being shown around the chalet.
‘There is another kelpie cross staying with us, she is down by the lake with her family while we get their accommodation ready’ the owner told me as she showed us around our chalet. Rocky nodded approvingly and then tried to butt in the conversation by asking if the other kelpie was ‘hot’ or ‘knew what to do with a couple of sheep’ (his words not mine).
‘Oh my god, dog porn!’ Rocky said excitedly as he spotted a pile of dog magazines on the table – seriously there were, with the top magazine promoting ‘Senior Dogs Special’ on the front and I have the photos to prove it.
‘We have the more updated copies in reception’ the owner said – making it sound almost like a treat that ‘dog porn’ should be on the table. I am always quite wary of Rocky reading dog porn, as he has never forgotten an article about a red cloud kelpie that made it big in Dampier by flashing his genitals and becoming a stud dog.
Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with ambition but Rocky has never been blessed in the genital department, in fact I doubt that he even has a penis because what he does have is so tiny it looks like something the birds had dug up. I have suggested that he wears budgie smugglers as they can make the smallest of men look well endowed but Rocky refuses saying that budgies serve no purpose and he would rather have a cockatoo down there instead of a budgie.
‘Thank you kindly, I shall be reading those later’ Rocky grinned at the woman and wagged his tail; she patted him in return and called him ‘cute’. I think she also had a ‘Dr Doolittle’ thing going on and could ‘speak dog’ fluently although she didn’t let on.
After unpacking the car, putting our stuff where it should be, sorting Rocky’s stuff out – you know the usual things that happen on arrival at temporary accommodation, admiring the view, the kitchen and even the toilet, the usual comments of ‘Oooh, isn’t this a nice room’ or ‘It’s not bad here is it?’, Rocky was finally let out in to his little garden where he furiously circled each patch and cocked his leg and promptly urinated on various patches, and then added with a smug look on his face ‘that’s better’ and then made a big show of kicking dirt back with his hind legs spreading his ‘doggyness’ all over the garden.
Now I have already mentioned that there was a lovely lake at the bottom of the hill and the lakes had a selection of kayaks, rowing boats and peddle boats. By the lake there was an elderly couple (older than me which makes me a ‘young thing’) and a sort of brown/red kelpie mix that had morphed over time into something like a canine coffee table. This was the dog that the chalet owner had told us about.
Jess – the ‘canine coffee table with calipers’
I feel I must elaborate on this kelpie bitch whose name turned out to be ‘Jess’. She was obviously quite senior and had dodgy hips, like really dodgy and not pretend dodgy. Do you all remember the film ‘Forest Gump’ where Forest had calipers when he was little and would run in them when he was being chased from the bullies? Well Jess had calipers – now before you all go high and mighty on me and say ‘but Sam, dogs don’t have calipers’ – this dogs calipers were invisible to those with no imagination, just like those with no imagination don’t hear or can imagine animals speaking so if you have no imagination, best you clear off now as you are SO in the ‘wrong room’.
Had you seen Jess in real life, you would know what I mean about the calipers – she had them and Rocky sat on our verandah, already having claimed it for his own and placed his ‘wubba’ (a ‘wubba’ is a furry octopus type toy made by KONG) and rubber chicken in the corner, spotted Jess waddling up the hill looking very disabled indeed.
‘Wait for me!’ Jess cried in a strong Australian accent as she noisily clanged her way up the hill with her calipers bashing on each other – not only did she appear to have severe hip problems but one of her legs looked completely fucked in the sense that it looked as though it had been glued on back to front and to Rocky’s delight, they made his hips look like ‘Kennel Club’ standard.
‘Jesus, your hips are worse than mine!’ Rocky yelled to Jess who blushed like a fat girl that had been caught with cake down her knickers. Rocky made a note to himself that she was not worth mating with but I guess she could become his friend, besides if he tried to shag her, he might damage himself on the ‘metal work’ (calipers). Not to mention that, but with his dodgy hips and her dodgy hips it would be like a badly managed metal work class.
‘I wonder what would happen if I put magnets on her calipers?’ Rocky said under his breath. I would like to tell you that thought went no further but I would be lying because later that day, Rocky did actually put magnets on her calipers and Jess ended up rolling down the hill with her hind legs in a knot looking like Stephen Hawkings in a gymnastic class. I will not say anything further on the matter as Rocky claimed that he was not in his right frame of mind and then later admitted that he only did it as a ‘science experiment’.
Jess was really rather sweet though and I for one quite liked her, she greeted everyone with joyous abandon as though they were all a long lost relative. Rocky however, greets everyone as though they are sheep and need to be herded or like lamp posts needed to be pissed upon.
After lunch it was decided that we would walk down to the lake and take Rocky for a swim with no rope, no leash – nothing. This was a huge risk as Rocky becomes selectively deaf and very naughty on the grounds that he doesn’t go off the leash back at home due to his dodgy hips. He can often be sighted on South Beach in Fremantle causing a canine uprising, barking in a high pitched voice whilst encouraging other dogs into the ocean, getting them so hyped up that they refuse to come back to their owners and I always get the blame.
‘Oh my god this is awesome!’ He said in his high pitched bark and then proceeded to follow Abdel out who was on a Kayak out into the water whilst I sat under the shade frantically trying to hide from the sun as to avoid getting sick – fat lot of good that did, being sun sensitive, I paid a high price as I spent a large percentage of the weekend away in bed in considerable agony. But I would rather be sick in Dwellingup than sick at home as it is a beautiful place, as Rocky will testify.
Rocky and Abdel enjoy the water
Once Rocky had done with his swimming, we all walked round the lake back to the chalet. Rocky ran ahead thoroughly over excited about being off the leash, it wasn’t too bad as we didn’t throw his ball and there were very few distractions so he just trotted on ahead, frequently stopping and looking behind him to see that we were still following, and then running circles around us to herd us up and when he wasn’t doing that, he was cocking his leg and then digging up the grass in an effort to prove his ‘youth’.
‘I can smell kangaroos!’ Rocky said sounding a touch nervous. Last time we were in Dwellingup; it was in a tent when my friend and I were camping, I needed to go for a pee and as there were no toilets near by, I had to do it in the bushes and because it was dark and I was scared, Rocky came with me.
Picture the scene, it was pitch black and there I was taking a leak, Rocky growled, I looked up and saw a kangaroo in the bushes and in my panic, yanked up my pyjamas ‘mid-flow’ and proceeded to piss all over them and then ran shouting my head off that a kangaroo had seen my ‘lady-garden’. I don’t know who was faster – Rocky or me but we came out of those bushes like a bat out of hell. So you see Rocky has never forgotten it and actually told me that the kangaroo had later threatened him if we ‘toileted’ ourselves in his bushes again.
‘There you go!’ Rocky said in a smug voice, ‘Kangaroo turd!’ and rightly pointed to what suspiciously looked like ‘roo poo’.
‘Oh it’s fine, they won’t remember us from all that time ago’ I tried to placate him, but I don’t think that he believed me and to be honest, I didn’t believe myself – damn straight they would have remembered me, I mean who could forget a mad English woman peeing down her own legs late at night in Dwellingup forest?
Anyway, as we were walking next to the owner’s house, which I may add was huge and rather beautiful, Rocky met up with Jess (caliper dog). Now I feel that I must state that the dogs in my suburb are nasty bastards that think nothing of beating Rocky up or threatening him with violence, they are ‘Derro’ dogs in every sense of the word. So you can understand how nervous I was of Rocky initially meeting Jess off the leash.
Well I needn’t have worried Rocky had his tail high wagging it frantically as though it had a mind of its own and Jess reciprocated with an equally frantic tail wag. It was as though they were two long lost friends.
‘Where are you from Jess?’ Rocky asked, it was so nice for him to meet another dog that wasn’t violent, rude or uncouth – well you know what I mean, the dogs where we live carry knives and guns so I have been told.
I enjoyed watching the pair of them play briefly on the lawn before Rocky cocked his leg all over Jess (yes really, he does that to other dogs quite a bit and has even done that on my leg once – please don’t ask me to elaborate on that, it is far too shameful but it did involve next doors female cocker spaniel who joined in on the action and I was left rather damp).
‘Oh thank you’ Jess replied, almost grateful for Rocky’s actions and then clanked her calipers as she tried to squat purely to fit in with ‘the crowd’ but ended up dribbling urine all down her elderly bent legs
‘Hello, hello – excuse me, can you hear me?’ sounds of a very rusty but very strong Australian accent came from the owners’ garden.
Losing interest in Jess, Rocky ran towards the garden where he was met with quite frankly, the most ugly terrier dog I have ever seen but without a doubt, the cutest ever.
Obviously an old, very grizzled black and tri-color dog with tufts on his ears, grey beard, wiry coat smothered in black and grey and bits of brown, a white vest, white huge paws that looked like dinner plates and very stiff bow legs, he looked like ‘the Doc’ from ‘Back to the Future’, – this dog looked about a million but was actually 19 years old which in doggy terms, may as well have been a million. He was a very friendly and happy dog and quite instantly, Rocky took to him and declared him a friend.
Having visions of Rocky meeting up with him for a coffee and a roll up cigarette, sitting in a cafe putting the world to rights, I marveled at the two dogs wagging their tails a million miles an hour.
‘How long are ya here for?’ The dog demanded in a somewhat ‘Mandurah’ accent – you must have been to Mandurah to understand what I mean by a ‘Mandurah’ accent because I find the accent very strong indeed as far as Australian accents go.
‘Till Sunday’ Rocky said excitedly, the terrier sighed and looked dismayed, he was hoping to get at least a week from the happy little black kelpie who was now all shiny from his swim in the lake.
‘Rocky, come here!’ I shouted to him in a bid to try and get him back to the chalet.
‘Fuck off, I am busy!’ He yelled back and then pretended that I wasn’t his owner.
‘Naughty!’ Jess giggled at Rocky’s bravery at swearing at me – she didn’t know the half of it how he speaks to me and how he runs rings around me at home. Although I must say that I later discovered that Jess was no angel, this was not her first time in Dwellingup and the last time she was here she got in to serious trouble for chasing kangaroos and let’s not even start discussing what she did to the donkeys that lived there but it involved calling them ‘donkey dick’.
‘The name is Diesel’ the terrier said to Rocky – really this dog (Rocky) looked to be good fun and Diesel didn’t have too many friends, except for the old and somewhat confused German shepherd inside the house but that didn’t count as he was a bit senile and kept saying ‘Is it time for a pee yet?’ even five minutes after he had just been in the garden and had also attacked an ‘intruder’ that turned out to be his own shadow.
His owner bought him from the dog rescue kennels 18 years ago – she had gone there looking for a new dog and just told the girls to give her the dog that had been there the longest that nobody wanted and she came away with Diesel who had been there for a year, so at 19 years old, he is fully entitled to be grizzled and tatty – he has earned his ‘grizzlement’, and I will say that having met Diesel, he is adorable and every bit deserving of his loving home and a warm bed and a squeaky rubber chicken (Rocky also has one) to keep him comfortable at nights – he rather reminds me of Benny Hill in his own little way and I can imagine him chasing hot young bitches around the coffee table whilst smelling of dog farts and old bones.
Diesel, I had been told, was also selectively deaf, exceptionally stubborn, and disobedient and only did what he wanted and when he wanted to do so. ‘Diesel come here’ his owner said.
‘Bollocks’ Diesel replied, promptly farted an ‘old smelly dog fart’ and then carried on talking to Rocky whilst shuffling around his garden like an old man in furry slippers with his pants falling down. You know how when men get old, their testicles become like space hoppers, their arse disappears and their trousers go up so high at the waist that they need braces to hold them up. Well that was Diesel.
Diesel – the rescue dog
Anyway, I don’t quite know what was said after that as Diesel and Rocky appeared to be whispering but I know Jess was involved and I know they were up to no good, I think it was Diesel as I saw him snorting with laughter as Rocky dug up the grass scattering mud everywhere. Jess wouldn’t tell me so god knows what they were talking about or what happened but I suspect Rocky was planning to swap dog porn or something or steal another dogs tennis balls which is another bad bad habit of his.
It took some persuading to get Rocky to come back to the chalet, he and Diesel did not take too kindly to being interrupted but managed to exchange phone numbers and email addresses and before you laugh, of course dogs have their own email and phone numbers – why wouldn’t they? Don’t tell me that you really believe that when you go to bed, your dog is all obediently curled up on his bed? Don’t be daft; I think you will find he is on your computer fiddling with your hard drive and Skyping his friends or watching dirty doggy movies on TV.
Proof that dogs watch dirty doggy stuff on TV
‘Catch ya later!’ Rocky yelled to Diesel as he was reluctantly dragged back to our verandah, Jess waved back and Diesel cocked his leg and pissed in the fish pond as Rocky did the thumbs up sign in approval.
We were all pretty hungry after that – it is damn hard work relaxing, swimming, walking and in Rocky’s case, socializing. Placing a large bowl of dog biscuit on the verandah for him, we went inside to eat our lunch as the flies had threatened to eat us alive while Rocky chowed his way through a bowl of biscuit and was so hungry, he polished off a large part of my steak afterwards.
Rocky enjoying the view from the verandah
Up until now, I have never mentioned talking spiders, in fact I rarely if ever mention spiders – they don’t usually have a place in my stories as I reserve those for creatures with either two or four legs but let me tell you that the spiders I met in Dwellingup really ought to be mentioned because they make the Hells Angels look positively angelic.
I had been informed that the owner kept donkeys – two of them to be exact and I love donkeys so thought I should try and seek them out. They had a huge paddock so could have been anywhere really but I had decided to venture to the paddock to check them out.
To get to the paddock you had to walk by an old shed with a clothes hanging line type thing attached to it. What greeted me on that washing line made me almost scream like a girl and almost soil myself because it was not only ‘beefy’ by spider standards, he looked acutely dangerous as well.
‘Jesus Christ!’ I shouted as I almost walked into the biggest spider in the world – universe even. He had thick black furry legs, huge fat bulbous body and even a set of beady little eyes. Of course had had eyes, I know spiders have eyes but this one had a pair of sunnies on as well.
He wore a black leather jacket, had black leather boots covering his legs (all of his legs), a flick knife in one pocket and a gun in the other (yes spiders have their own pockets) I know you won’t believe me, but this spider had a beard – like the bikies have, a proper spiders beard and I am sure he has appeared in several ‘Crime Watch’ poster campaigns.
‘Where the fuck do you think you are going?’ The spider said in a Paul Hogan type voice.
‘To see the two donkeys’ I replied in the weakest and most feeble voice ever, I mean seriously you had to see this spider to believe it – I later found out that his name was Barry.
Around Barry were several webs, some big and some small but all of them contained spiders of varying sizes all scuttling to safe areas of the clothes line. You could hear their voices shouting ‘Get her, trap her, wrap her up in your web and eat her’ Honestly, I had no idea spiders could be so violent, well not including the time I spent in hospital after a redback spider bit me on the ankle but I am still coming to terms with that.
‘What are you doing in the spider hood?’ he demanded, raising his voice slightly.
‘I want to see the donkeys’ I repeated but by now I didn’t give a shit about the bloody donkeys, I wanted to run for the hills jumping and slapping myself to make sure I had no spiders on me.
‘She wants to see the donkeys’ – the smaller spiders repeated together and then sniggered, trying to imitate my voice. A female spider in black tight satin pants and black T shirt with ‘Punk Legs’ printed on it, sat on a chunky black spiders lap, chewing gum and inhaling deeply on her cigarette, she stared at me, smirking her spider face off.
‘Well they ain’t here are they?’ Barry laughed and then examined a selection of his legs, measuring them against one another and flexing/extending them – a bit like when someone checks their fingernails after a manicure.
Glancing round I could see there were no donkeys – they must be in the bottom paddock. ‘I will be on my way then’ I said meekly and then started to move away giving the washing line a wide berth as several spiders did ‘cut throat’ signs near me and hissed or laughed or just glared at me, it was so intimidating I could not believe it – we are talking serious ‘underbelly’ of the spider world.
‘Oi, miss!’Barry said loudly.
I looked up at him feeling sick – how could anything have legs that thick and hairy, aside from Fatima Whitbread?
Without even looking at me, he said calmly ‘Don’t come back – this is OUR territory, if you do come back, you won’t be so lucky next time’ the other spiders all laughed, some lit cigarettes and some just looked bored of me.
I didn’t need telling twice, I could feel my feet snapping the twigs on the ground as I walked off at some pace, keeping an eye out for cobwebs for I was certain that I heard one of the spiders beg if he could be allowed to catch me in his web and suck the life blood out of me until I went all dry and shriveled from the inside out – oh hold on a minute, I am dry from the inside out anyway from the Sjogrens disease so it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
‘Have you been running?’ Abdel asked as I came back in to the chalet sweating like Michael Jackson in a creche.
‘Spiders’ was all I could say and then added ‘Bastard great big fat hairy fuckers with attitude’
Shaking his head, Abdel laughed and carried on making tea. He could laugh – he hadn’t even seen them, I made a mental note to introduce him before we left and pray that we wouldn’t be eaten in the process.
After our tea, we sat on the verandah and admired the view which was pretty awesome and made me realize that I am a country girl at heart and could quite happily live amongst the animals and leave humans out of the equation.
Clutching my camera I trained my eye to the field just behind the lake. Abdel was about to go inside and glanced over to me and said ‘Why don’t we sit inside?’
‘Kangaroos, I want to get some pictures and I have heard that they gather by the lake of an evening’ I replied. Abdel cleared the table and went inside to watch ‘Home and Away’.
As I strained my eyes, I thought initially it was a large bush or two but then it moved so grabbing my camera, which had the zoom lens on it, I had a look to confirm whether or not it was ‘bush or beast’.
‘Build it and they will come!’ I yelled excitedly because through my zoom lens I could spy 3 kangaroos – a mum, a dad and a joey.
The photos were not brilliant but considering I took them from the chalet, they were not bad at all. Rocky was quietly quivering in the living room, as he wanted nothing to do with the ‘hopping handbags’ as he referred to them. But as for me, I was thrilled because as some may say Dwellingup is too quiet and scant on human company, I say it has a rich abundance of company of the furry and feathered kind and if you can ‘speak dog’ then you would never really want for a friend.
The next morning
Rocky was doing the nosy neighbor thing on the verandah and spying on the new people that had moved in to the chalet next door. Honestly I don’t know where he gets his ability to be nosy from, Abdel reckons it is me as I am the curtain twitcher supreme but I beg to differ.
A tiny pugalier (pug crossed with cavalier spaniel) ran at pace to catch up with his owner, barking noisily to get his attention.
Now if you can imagine the Danny de Vito voice saying ‘Whatch ya doin’, slow down, I got little legs ya know’ in that accent he has, then you will know what I mean.
‘Twat, I bet he talks like that for a bet’ Rocky growled under his breath and then glanced over to his right, straining his head to see if Jess was up so he could go off and play with her.
‘Are you ready Rocky?’ I said to him as Abdel grabbed the tennis ball to go down to the lake for a swim.
Running ahead of us, Rocky ran straight to Jess’s chalet to see if the tubby crippled Kelpie was up for a swim. Jess however, was on the verandah with the gate shut as her owners were still having breakfast.
‘Coming for a swim Jess?’ Rocky grinned at her, Jess who was trying to adjust her invisible calipers; looked boot faced at her owners for being so slow with their eating habits.
Jess pleading to be let out with Rocky
Pushing her head through the bars of the verandah fence, she proceeded to howl noisily in frustration as she couldn’t get out. ‘Let me out now!’ Jess shouted and became so loud that her owners relented and opened the gate. In her excitement Jess nearly fell down the stairs to get to Rocky, honestly it was like a game of ‘Jenga’ where you pile on bricks to the highest point and they eventually all collapse in a heap.
Gathering herself, her calipers and her dignity, Jess ran down to the lake with Rocky. ‘Catch me if you can!’ Jess shouted happily.
‘Catch me if you can’ Jess yelled to Rocky
‘I can see your minge!’ Rocky replied, looking rather smug that he was so close to her genitals. (sounds of giggling from Jess)
‘Rocky, don’t be so bloody rude!’ I reprimanded him but it didn’t do any good as Rocky and Jess were long gone and I could just see both of their tails wagging as they sniffed down by the kayaks by the lake.
‘Are you coming down the lake with us?’ Abdel asked me, grabbing Rocky’s tennis ball – although that was pretty pointless as Rocky had Jess and no tennis ball would tempt him away from her.
‘No, I will stay here and do my writing’ I replied. There was far too much to write about (as you are now reading and finding out for yourself) and besides, I could see the Danny de Vito dog strutting around his chalet puffing out his chest and trying to make his genitals look big by standing with his legs apart and failing miserably, he was just begging to go into my stories. Really my head was bursting with my imagination trying to get out – put me in the countryside and I don’t need friends as the invisible ones and my imagination are all fabulous company thank you.
Grabbing my computer and a coffee, I sat down on the verandah, feeling the warmth of the wood under my feet – really it was beautiful there, not a sound except for the birds, not counting Rocky and Jess barking or the Danny de Vito dog talking in a purposely loud voice to make himself sound bigger than what he actually was. But that was OK, the sound of animals talking is far better than that of humans and once you grasp that aspect, then everything is really quite perfect.
Danny de Vito Dog – full of shit dog!
‘I run the ‘hood’ where I live, I have lots of dogs working for me dont cha’ know?’ Danny de Vito Dog could be heard yelling to Rocky by the lake.
‘Bollocks!’ Rocky sniggered to the tiny dog who bristled back with indignation at being called a liar.
‘You have boots kelpie and you are too big for them!’ Danny de Vito Dog shouted to Rocky and then cocked his leg up one of the kayaks to prove a point, only he didn’t prove a point as the only thing he managed to do was fall over. Isn’t it a good job that we humans don’t prove our worth by pissing over stuff, mind you some may beg to differ on that score judging by the smell in various shop doorways on a Friday night.
Rocky really did not much care to be friends with this dog that told lies about how he had his own kingdom and lots of bitches that attended his every need and fed him bones. In fact even Rocky wanted to avoid him and even told Jess to do likewise which resulted in the little pugalier being forced to talk to himself from his own verandah and even attack a large branch as he was convinced it had threatened him.
Rocky to the rescue!
Now this section is somewhat dramatic so please be prepared for it and if you are of sensitive nature and prone to crying, now is the time to get your tissues – think ‘Lassie’ and you will just about have it right.
Abdel wanted to go for a swim and Rocky was not happy about it and had advised him not to and much to Rocky’s horror, Abdel chose to ignore him.
It all started by the lake and Abdel was deciding what to do – swim or kayak and Rocky had yelled to him to do as he was told or he would be forced to take action.
Rocky orders Abdel out of the lake
‘I am not going to tell you again, you only have two legs and I have four so you cannot hope to be as good a swimmer as myself!’ Rocky insisted.
In an act of defiance, Abdel took to the water as Rocky nearly choked on his own tongue.
‘Right, this is not funny, get out!’ Rocky screamed in his high pitched kelpie bark. And then added ‘I am coming to get you’ and started swimming towards a bemused Abdel.
Follow me – I will keep you safe!
Follow me back to shore!
The things I do for my owner!
Rocky was declared a true hero by Jess that night because he had ‘saved’ Abdel, only don’t tell Jess or Rocky that Abdel didn’t even need saving and is a proficient swimmer so we will let Rocky think he is a super dog, actually he is because with no thought to his own safety, he went in after his owner to bring him back because he thought he was in danger and for that reason alone, he is a super dog and I love the bones off him.
My little kelpie hero – Rocky Dog
Day Two – Date with a Donkey!
After the spider-hood incident, you could be forgiven for not believing me when I said that there really were donkeys on the premises but Abdel and I did actually find them and yes, it involved walking through the spider-hood in order to get to them.
So we did manage to get permission from Barry the head spider who rattled even the normally cool Abdel with his threats of violence involving several sets of legs and a flick knife. Abdel returned the ‘favor’ by threatening them with a mortein bomb and if that didn’t work, someone from pest control to ‘saturate their arses with enough toxicity to float a ship’ (his words not mine)
These threats could have made things worse but Barry the spider had decided to back down as mortein was one thing but pest control was another so a truce was called, we could see the donkeys on this occasion but we had to promise never to come back because if we did, Barry would be on the phone to the spiders in our suburb and had threatened us with arachnid gang warfare which would not only include redbacks but white tails as well.
Anyway, all that was said was what needed to be said and yes, we saw the donkeys, yes they were very nice thank you and no, they refused to talk to us other than to tell us we were very lucky to walk away from the spider-hood that day with our bodily fluids still contained within our body although some spiders were heard to be bragging that they had sucked out our lifeblood but they were just bullshitting.
Donkeys – they tell it how it is!
Later that day
Abdel and I had decided to take Rocky for a walk, there was really no need for him to be on a leash as he is a country dog and seems to thrive in that environment. Put him back in the suburbs and it is a different and somewhat more disobedient story.
Rocky really was enjoying the scenery of Dwellingup and I have to admit – so was I, really it is one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been to and not only that, there is plenty of animal company to chat to and I even made friends with a couple of forest red tailed black cockatoos called Susan and Gregory, and a very nice pair they were too. It was only a flying visit you see but they managed to throw a few words my way as they flew over.
Forest red tailed black cockatoo – Susan and Gregory
The lake ‘place of action’
Rocky on ‘roo watch’
It really was rather marvelous seeing Rocky enjoy his freedom, when he wasn’t playing with Jess, he was making fun out of Danny de Vito Dog and when he wasn’t doing that, he was swimming and when he wasn’t swimming, he was either watching TV or reading the dog porn in the front room – basically a kelpie with a busy life you might say.
Roo Watch – again!
That evening I was determined to some better shots of some kangaroos, I left Rocky on the verandah with Abdel and I took the camera and went down to the lake to see if any of the ‘hopping handbags’ as they are known in some parts, were in sight so I could get some good photographs.
Turning round to admire the scenery which you have to admit from this photo, is pretty awesome, I turned my camera on and took this photograph. That was when I heard noises, sort of whispering but very loud whispering and sounds of ‘Who are you?’ kind of thing.
Thinking it was my imagination, I ignored the noises and then focused my camera on the scenery and it happened again but only the voices were louder – how did I not hear them in the first place, they were practically shouting at me.
Have you ever seen the film ‘Gulliver’s Travels’? Where the little men carry off Gulliver and although they are little, there are so many of them they actually make a powerful army? Well I thought nothing could scare me after the spider-hood incident but boy was I wrong because when I realized that the voices were not coming from eye level, I glanced down and looked on the ground and what I saw made me do what only can be described as the ‘River Dance – Samantha style’.
I was standing on a nest of bull ants – please feel free to Google ‘bull ants’ and then imagine me standing on a nest of these bastards and if you want to pray for my soul and my pants that were now soiled, you have my full permission.
You know in army films they sing those songs as they march ‘I don’t know what I’ve been told, I’ve heard your genitals smell of mold’ – you know the kind of song?
That is what they were doing, thousands of the bastards had started to lift me up and were jostling me along the path to their nest and I could even hear the senior ants in charge yelling ‘heeve, ho, heeve, ho’. Jesus Christ I was being dragged into an ants nest – these made the spider-hood seem like pussycats.
‘Oh, we have a big one!’ One of the bull ants shouted and then instructed them to sing their marching song again while they all pulled together and managed to move me another inch (yes it was an inch, I was sure of it and you had to be there to see it)
For what seemed like ages I allowed them to carry me towards the nest, fascinated as I watched them wipe the sweat off their tiny little ‘anty’ type faces and take swigs of water and yell out words of encouragement to the ‘ant army’.
Then I remembered that these bastards not only bite but they bite hard and I still have painful memories of being bitten by a bull ant in QLD which resulted in my leg burning and going numb from the pain and that memory alone was enough to shake me out of my fascination for these tiny insects that were hell bent on getting me back to the nest and that is when I did it – I performed The River Dance – Samantha Style.
The River Dance can be performed in many situations you see, when you find a cockroach in your cupboard, a mouse in your house, a dead spider, a snake – in fact anything that terrifies you can result in the River Dance which involves jumping up and down and slapping various bits of your body using your hands and some people have even been known to kick their own faces. The River Dance can be done by men or women and get quite violent, legs and ankles could be broken, anything could happen.
So there I was doing the River Dance, slapping my own legs and marking them red, jumping up and down and blacking my eyes with my ample bosoms bouncing around like day old puppies and thank the lord and the baby orphans that none of those bull ants managed to bite me because trust me on this one, those bastards hurt when they bite and once bitten, the pain is never forgotten either.
‘What the fuck?’ The senior bull ant yelled and then shouted ‘Hostile attack! Get her!’ and seemingly from nowhere, literally thousands of ants poured out of a small mound by the bushes.
That was my hint to go and go I did, I ran like a starving kid wanting a Hungry Jacks and literally hopped along the pathway like a springbok until I came out into the clearing. Checking there were no more ants on me, I still had that reactive instinct to continue slapping myself like a mental person, in fact my legs had hand marks on them where I had slapped myself so hard, I somewhat resembled a self-harmer and was surprised that Abdel never picked up on my ‘injuries’ when I got back to the chalet.
I was rewarded by my ‘walk of death’ through the bull ants nest by a nice group of wallabies and managed to take this photo before they spotted me and told me to ‘sod off and leave them alone’, which I did as I had suffered more than enough excitement for one night.
They were so small and so fast – I was lucky to get this photograph
And in the blink of an eye – they were gone as quickly as they appeared
The next morning
Abdel got up before me and went to the toilet, I saw him glancing out of the patio door and looked somewhat confused and then looked again. Rocky did not even stir, he was fast asleep and really was not a morning person.
‘There are ducks on the verandah’ Abdel said and then yawned, rubbed his eyes and went in to the bathroom.
Was he joking? Ducks on the veranda? I was tempted to drag my arse out of bed but really couldn’t be bothered but I should have known that nothing was ever that simple and just because you don’t see things, it doesn’t mean that you cannot hear them.
‘Do you think there is food here?’ I could hear one of the ducks say – it sounded quite young.
‘Well I can’t see anything, I would have hoped that kelpie would have left something behind’ The other duck sighed and then I could hear several other ducks arguing over the food situation in Dwellingup and even the fire from a few years ago. Jesus Christ, I was trying to sleep and now I could hear these bloody ducks holding a ‘feather conference’ on our verandah.
It was only when Rocky got up and went on the verandah and told them to stop being so noisy that or he would turn them into crispy fried duck, they all took flight and left, but not before one of the ducks flashed her arse to Rocky and crapped near his water bowl which did not go down very well let me tell you.
‘Ducks on the verandah? Are you sure?’ The woman who owns the place said when we told her and then told us that she had never seen ducks on the verandah of any of the chalets since she opened the business. Oh well, they were on the verandah, just ask Abdel and Rocky if you don’t believe me, the duck shit may well still be on there.
Time to go home
‘But I don’t want to go!’ Rocky cried as I packed up his toys, bowls and bedding.
‘That makes two of us’ I muttered and I meant it too. I really didn’t want to go home, as a writer I yearned to live in the middle of nowhere with only wildlife for company and hated living in the suburbs – it was my idea of hell so I could totally sympathize with Rocky not wanting to go back.
Once we had tidied up the chalet and did the usual checks that you do before you leave guest accommodation, we had loaded everything up in the car except for Rocky who was now sat huddled up on the step pretending to be a cruelty case so that he could stay.
‘Do you have to go Rocky, can’t you stay one more day?’ Jess pleaded looking rather depressed. Her calipers clanked together noisily, they still had some fridge magnets on them that Rocky had stuck on the day before.
Staring at her, Rocky sighed ‘Sorry Jess, I have to go with them’, his tail swished slowly from side to side.
Taking Rocky, I led him to the back of the car and secured his leash to the seat belt so he was safely contained in the back seat and then opened down the window for him and then I got in the front seat whilst taking a last long look at this beautiful place that had made a significant impact on me which in turn had made me realize just how much I hated the suburbs.
‘Call me!’ Rocky mouthed to Jess through the window and then did a gesture with his paws mimicking a telephone. Jess grinned back and then did a naughty flash of her genitals whilst at the same time bashing her calipers together.
As we pulled out of the chalet park, I could see a line of spiders from the spider-hood on the side of a fence, all wearing their leather gear, some carrying guns, some carrying knives, some hissed but most said nothing and fronting up the army of spiders was Barry who gave Abdel a nod of respect. Anyone that threatens the spider-hood with a mortein bomb has to be respected and anyone that knows anyone that works in pest control ought to be at the top of the food chain. But it is always worth remembering that spiders ought to be respected, especially when they are armed with weapons have have serious contacts in the arachnid ‘underworld’.
‘It feels like we have never been away’ I said to Abdel as I unpacked our bags.
Rocky was running round the garden checking that nothing had been disturbed, moved, or soiled upon in his absence. I could see the little black kelpie circling round and lifting his leg several times to urinate on things until he eventually ran out of urine and merely did it as a gesture.
Don’t get me wrong, it was nice to be home but I couldn’t help but wish that ‘home’ was somewhere else as in Denmark or Dwellingup or even Metricup, just somewhere peaceful, gorgeous scenery and nothing but the wildlife for company.
‘I won’t miss the spiders though’ I said to Abdel as he loaded up the washing basket with our dirty laundry. Abdel laughed and then went into the bathroom to put away the toiletries that he had taken from the luggage bag.
After everything was unpacked, put away and sorted, Abdel and I sat down with the old British favorite – the thing that sorts everything out, a steaming mug of tea. You may have noticed that in the UK whatever the crisis, a cup of tea solves everything – including war and tea always tastes best in your own favorite mug that normally has a chip on it somewhere.
Rocky was fast asleep on his bed as road trips always make him tired, his legs were twitching along with his facial muscles as he was clearly having a vivid dream about something or other – chasing Jess perhaps? putting magnets on her calipers, or perhaps just enjoying the freedom of not being on a leash because he had ‘earned the trust of the countryside’ if you know what I mean, and by trust I mean the 10th Commandment which is ‘thou shalt not chase kangaroos and wildlife’.
So that was that, our weekend away was over and it was time to get back into the real world, where the dogs carry knives and threaten people and the magpies bash you up and chase you and the real sounds of wildlife come in the form of the hoons racing cars up and down the main road by your house and you know something? I hate it – real life that is.
‘It’s like it never happened’ I muttered to Abdel as I carefully edited the Dwellingup photos on my computer whilst sipping my tea.
‘Oh I wouldn’t say that’ A small voice said from way above my head, who the shitting hell said that?
Looking up I could see a rather large white tail spider wearing a leather jacket and tight leather pants and a blue and white scarf tied around its head. Standing up I stared at it in disbelief and said ‘Pardon?’
‘Two words’ the spider replied firmly ‘Spider-Hood’
Feeling sick I turned round to see if Abdel had heard it all, he was fast asleep with his empty tea cup in his hands. Turning back round to face the spider, it had gone.
Now, where was that mortein bomb?
A special thank you to the owners of the forest lodge for their kindness and hospitality – they provided us with first class facilities and accommodation and it is definitely worth a trip to stay with them.
Samantha Rose (C) Copyright 2013