My favourite Pet

I don’t have a story about my favourite pet but I can tell you about a pet I hated with a vengeance. His name was Boz. An ugly brute of a dog and when I tell you his breed you will agree with me. He was an Blue Cattle dog, commonly called a blue heeler.

About fifty years ago, I met this young girl at a twenty first birthday party and I quite liked the look of her. I asked her for a date which she duly accepted. I was all spruced up to impress when her dog, Boz, true to his breed and cunning, waited until I stepped out of the car before he rushed me with teeth bared and a growl that put the fear of the devil into my soul. She came to the door and called “Come here, Bozzy” Well, ‘Bozzy’ did as he was told but as I ventured up to the front door I wasn’t quite sure that I would be leaving with all body parts intact. I feared for my poor skinny legs and my new Fletcher Jones trousers as that mongrel sensed my agitation when he sniffed my ankles.

She kept assuring me that he wouldn’t bite but I wondered if old Boz knew that he wouldn’t bite. “He’s a good dog” she informed me with pride “he is a Blue Merle” but, at that moment, I didn’t care for his goodness or his pedigree, I just didn’t like the way that mutt looked at me. His top lip curled menacingly showing vicious white teeth. The whites of his eyes were showing and doesn’t that mean something, I thought? At that moment, my main thought was not to impress this girl or her family but to keep my body and mind intact.

After a while when the formalities were over, and she had hold of his collar, I felt a bit braver and thought now’s the time to show that I’m really a dog lover. I said “Gidday Boz” and tried to sound and look friendly. I even tried to give him a weak smile but he was not at all interested and chose to ignore me completely. Boz knew me for what I was - a rival, an interloper, a dog hater, and, as far as he was concerned all I deserved was his contempt. Old Boz knew his position and status. He had her wrapped around both his front paws. Well, I finally got her away from Boz but only after a few side steps and backward glances to assess the enemy’s position, did I manage to make the car in one piece. Then we were off to the movies for our date and I had her all to myself. No Boz.

She told me that she got old Boz when she was eight years old and he was a six week old puppy. She loved him at first sight. He had one endearing black floppy ear that fell over one eye. He was a cute puppy and as he grew both ears stood straight and proud and he developed into a handsome well built, well proportioned dog. I could tell from the way that she talked that she was absolutely besotted and I knew then that my task ahead was going to be tough. How was I going to compete with Old Boz and prise an opening into her heart?

The stories that she told of her childhood, Boz was always there. She treated him like a baby, dressing him in her old baby clothes and pushing him around in her battered green dolls pram. He being the strong manly type tolerated this humiliation out of love for her. She made a cubby house between the garage and coal shed and together they played houses. They played ball for hours on end and he never tired of the game. It was she who tired first. They were the best of mates. He was always there for her and he knew instinctively when to comfort her when she was in trouble or sad. Old Boz played an important role in her and her family’s lives. He was part of the family. I could see that at my very first meeting.

Boz went everywhere with them. Weddings and funerals he slept in the back of the car. Picnics and holidays he was there to be cursed and loved. Old Boz loved the freedom of the beach and would chase seagulls forever. At Forty Mile Beach, he went so far up the beach that he was a tiny speck on the sand and we had to chase after him. The trouble was that he had no sense of time or distance and kept going with us plodding after him. I wanted to turn back but no, she kept on after Boz. Another time I remember the dog eating the bait her father had carefully prepared when we went fishing. After a lot of cursing and swearing the father had resignedly pack up his fishing gear and walk back empty handed to the tent. No fish that night.

Sometimes the family would rent an old timber cottage at the holiday place if it was winter so as to have the luxury of an open warm fire. This was my very first time away with the family and Old Boz. Well I tried to be on my very best behaviour to impress her and her parents but somehow I slipped up and paid the supreme price. You know how it is when two young people are together. They fool around. Well my downfall was trying to tickle my girlfriend. She of course giggled and squealed which set Old Boz on a one way course and that was to jump up and latch onto my stomach. I of course let out a scream and the mongrel attacked me again. I can tell you that there was never any tom-foolery again especially when Old Boz was around.

I remember clearly the Thursday night of one Easter when we were travelling down to their holiday place and he went missing out of the back of her father’s utility van. That stupid dog had a bad habit of barking at passing cars, dogs on the footpath, in fact, anything that moved or caught his attention. He wasn’t strapped in and presumably he leant over too far one time and fell out or more stupidly he jumped out. He was only noticed missing half way to their destination when her mother remarked that Boz hadn’t barked for a while. Her father stopped the car and sure enough the old dog was not in the back. Needless to say, everyone was heartbroken and distressed over the missing Boz. Next thing I knew, we had turned around and headed for home retracing our route slowly. We didn’t find the dog and we arrived home very sombre indeed. I silently cursed the mongrel for upsetting a wonderful weekend away with the family. As the days slid slowly by, there was no sign of old Boz and sadly the family had begun to resign themselves to his most likely death and to a life without the old dog. However, on the fifth day he turned up on the doorstep as if nothing had happened. There was much rejoicing and her father exclaimed, “This is better than winning the lottery!”

Well Old Boz sort of got used to me coming into his territory but I never really felt sure that his intentions towards me were always honourable. However, I did marry the girl and we lived in a flat a few kilometres from her home. We spent most weekends visiting Old Boz and her parents. I was always jealous of the attention she bestowed on him but I remember well the day he died and even though we were not on first name terms, he did tolerate me and somehow a little of her love of him had rubbed off on me. No, never love maybe respect would be the better term. It was the 24^th May, Commonwealth Day when bonfires were lit and firecrackers exploded. It was a noisy night and all the dogs were frightened and that great brute of a dog that terrified me and the whole neighbourhood was no exception. Her mother had locked him inside the house while the celebrations were in force but put him outside when she went to bed. That was the last time Boz was seen. I spent the whole weekend driving her around the neighbourhood looking for Boz but to no avail. On the Monday the family heard that he had been run over and his body was disposed of by the garbage man. This magnificent animal now lives only in the photo I took of her and Boz at the beach and in her thoughts.