Their Dog – In 2D

They have another dog –
and/or an illusory cat. That
makes maybe five to
ignore. It seems happy;
it plays with a puppy’s
random abandon.

As yet it is free of the
owners’ dysfunctional
idiosyncrasies, a situation
we know will change; it
will soon see the World
only in 2D and matt grey.

Meanwhile we run the
gauntlet of Blue Heeler
stupidity, fuelled by Dandi
Dinmont vacuousness,
overseen by an estranged
dairy farm dog that stayed.

It’s the Wild, Wild West out
here. But we shouldn’t
complain. Our five JRTs rule
the roost with anarchy born
of the breed. And at the least –
they know they’re family!
© 19 January 2008, I. D. Carswell

Veranda Tales, The Labrador

Gordo, Master Raconteur, called
by the Market stall this AM for a
yarn. Said his Labrador had weird
ideas on what being a dog means.

Amongst other things it knew its
beer he claims – it, the Lab’s long
dead (and not from what you’re
thinking), liked to drink a bit.

Back when we weren’t supplied
too easily with life’s necessities
a NSW brewery strike meant we
suffered an unseasonal dry.

The beer didn’t arrive, one had
to drink this puerile p.ss called
‘West End’ in place of KB. Only
slightly better than nothing.

No-one noticed but the Labrador
cottoned on this stuff was dodgy.
Later, when a few cartons of the
genuine showed, rationed like a

grandma’s smile & the lads get into
a tinny or two – dog arrives, bowl in
mouth, ready for a cleansing brew.
Bugger off, the lads say, when Gordo

goes to pour a drop, give ‘im a West
End, there’s still a few. They say the
look on the Lab’s face would’ve soured
cream. Gordo recalls that he (the dog)
never drank beer again...!
© 4 November 2007, I. D. Carswell