A dog’s breakfast
HAVING breakfast? If so, you may wish to turn the page.
For today’s piece is about an unpleasant subject best not taken with tea and toast.
Now COVID-19 has thrown up some interesting observations. Like social distancing becoming part of the English lexicon, people willing to o make sacrifices for the e greater good, the moronic c few who just don’t care, the e appalling selfishness of f panic shoppers … and dogs.
If you have been enjoy- ing a daily constitutional during isolation, you would have noticed our canine friends out and about. Border collies, terri- ers, boxers, labradors, kel- pies and liquorice all-sorts (has that lolly been banned yet?). Thousands, either pulling their owners’ arms from the socket, sniffing trees and fences or stopping for toilet breaks. Constantly.
The numbers shouldn’t surprise. Experts tell us there are 29 million pets in Australia, one of the highest ownership rates in the world. That figure covers dogs (nearly 40 per cent), cats, fish, birds and reptiles.
Our love affair with pets is thriving in this part of the world. Estimates reveal there are more than 27,000 dogs registered in the City of Greater Geelong. Surf Coast
Shire has around 6000 registrations, a modest figure in comparison and one that suggests the scores of mutts you see tearing around our beaches are tourists.
My immediate family is tailwagger typical. Gus The Wonder Dog, a shih tzu/Maltese, lives south of the river. Although the runt of the litter, he dominates the household and prefers the comfort of the couch rather than walking the streets. To our vet, Gus is the goose that laid the golden egg – and, yes, he can be a goose at times but, bless him, he is in good h health.
Ca - v voodle cousins Alfie and Minty reside closer to the city and are polar opposites when it comes to exercise. Every morning, frost or frizzle, they are hanging out for a stroll. Brother Alfie reminds me of Barney Rubble from The Flintstones – solid in build and character and forever cheerful. Sister Minty thinks she’s human and, I swear, talks to whoever will listen.
The latest addition is Disco, a Labradoodle who came with name attached, which suited the owner just fine as he dabbles in DJ-ing. Disco, whose abode is a short stroll from Kardinia Park, is still a pup, which goes some way to explaining his delinquent behaviour. It’s possible a trait he has inherited from Uncle Gus.
All four have been to doggy school, although Disco barely scraped through after going nuts on graduation day. Everyone know knows pups just w wanna have fun, b but the trainer was not impressed nor the other graduates shocked to the core by this flying fluff ball. Similarly, all four are house trained, which leads to the unsavoury topic of the day.
Since the virus, dog walking has increased exponentially. Owners and their four-legged friends pound the pavement constantly. No problem there. It’s what they leave behind that’s infuriating.
Fair to say it’s a minefield of motions and you better watch your step. Equally galling are the owners, who dutifully scoop the deposit into plastic bags, then surreptitiously drop the lot in the gutter or hurl it into the nearest bush, which just happens to be in someone’s well-kept garden.
Dogs are great company, fun, affectionate and therapeutic, but they are not people. They know nothing of etiquette and social graces so they are excused if they ‘go’ in public. Owners who do not clean up after them have no excuse. Many, many moons ago I worked with a crusty chief of staff, whose tolerance level was nil. He d did not indulge fools, b blowhards or anyone who dare interrupt his solitude at home. One fine morning he witn nessed a dog with o owner in tow using his n nature strip as a toilet. As they strolled a away, he grabbed the kitchen brush and shovel (not recommended), scooped up the pooch’s poo and chased the culprits up the street. His words may have changed slightly in the telling, but they went something like: “This belongs to you. Bloody take it, or I will follow you home and return the favour – personally – on your front lawn.”
The shamed owner wisely chose the former. A salutary lesson for the irresponsible few.
Graeme Vincent is a former Geelong Advertiser editor.