Part 2 (1/2)

'Glad I didn't stuff it up.' Jocko looked proud of himself, and Vanno clapped him on the back. 'Good on ya,' he said.

'Will he be all right?' asked John.

'Too early to say,' said the vet. 'First thing is I'll have to get those bullets out.' The vet looked at the animal a little more closely and exclaimed, 'Well, I do believe it's Red Dog.'

'Jeez,' said Peeto, 'how did you know that?'

'This dog,' said the vet, 'everyone knows. The first time I met him, it was at Pretty Pool, and we were waiting to watch the stairway to the moon, and we'd all brought stuff for the barbie, and Red Dog here, he ate my salami, and he got my neighbour's steak. Everyone knows Red Dog.'

'He's been here a lot?' asked John, astonished. Red Dog followed him about faithfully for most of the time, and it was hard to imagine when he might have found the opportunity to travel so much.

'Every time anything's going to happen,' said the vet, laughing, 'along comes Red Dog in a road-train, and then when it's over off he goes. It's my belief he's got a couple of girlfriends hereabouts, 'cause just recently I've noticed some of my youngest clients look just a little bit like him.'

'Good lad,' said Jocko, stroking his muzzle.

The men sat outside in the waiting room whilst the vet and his nurse extracted the bullets. They couldn't think of very much to say to each other, and just kept exchanging glances, and wiping their brows with the backs of their hands. The suspense was too much to bear, as it seemed to them that Red Dog was fighting for his life and could very easily lose the battle.

After half an hour or so the vet came out and told them, 'I think he'll be fine. Lucky for him, the bullets missed the bone. He probably lost a lot of blood, but he's strong and obstinate, that's for sure. Give him a while to wake up, and we'll see how it goes.' He held out his hand and dropped the two distorted bullets into John's outstretched hand.

John looked down at them and shook his head. 'What I don't understand,' he said, 'is why anyone wants to go around shooting at dogs.'

'You'll be surprised,' said the vet. 'It happens all the time, and I take out more bullets than I'd ever expect. It's the farmers and the station men. They'll shoot anything that looks like a fox or a dingo or a dog, and they say they're protecting the stock, but if you ask me half of them are trigger-happy morons who do it for the sake of it. They're the kind of people who still eat damper and think they're starring in a western. I've heard of people driving around with hunting rifles sticking out of the windows, blasting away at anything that moves. It makes you despair, it really does. The only thing that's worse is when they go round leaving poison bait. That's what really gets me riled. It makes you sick to see a dog die of strychnine. If they could see how horrible it is for a dog to die of poison, I don't believe they could bring themselves to do it.'

Before long the men were called into the surgery, and found Red Dog, his wound heavily dressed, lying motionless but awake on the table. 'I doubt he'll be able to move,' said the vet, 'but he'll certainly recognise you.'

The four fellows made a fuss of him, and Red Dog sighed happily. 'I've got to keep him a couple more hours,' the vet told them, 'so why don't you go out and get a bite, and come back later? I don't mind hanging about. I've got paper to shuffle about in the office.'

John looked at his watch, and said, 'Well, I reckon it is tucker time.'

Jocko pulled a face; 'I've just realised I haven't told me missus where I'm gone.'

'You're for it,' said Vanno. 'I bet you a dollar she's cooking something up right now.'

'I'll give her a tinkle,' said Jocko.

The men turned to leave, and Red Dog, thinking he was going to be left, struggled to his feet and made to jump down. 'Hey, you,' said the vet, 'you're not going anywhere.' He told John to keep the dog still, and gave him another dose of sedative with the hypodermic. 'I can honestly say,' said the vet, 'that I've never known a dog as ill as this do anything like that before.'

They made their way to the Bungalow Cafe and ordered plenty of food. They ate with the appet.i.te of men who have been reprieved, and it put them into a thoroughly good mood. 'What say we find a bar?' said John. 'It's my shout. Least I can do.'

They started off with a couple of middies each, and then Peeto said he'd taken a yen for a Bundy, 'just to top it off.' The others declared it a fine idea, and they had a Bundy each. 'Here's to Red Dog,' said Vanno. 'Chin chin.'

'Long life and good health,' said Peeto.

'Lots of girlfriends and lots of pups,' said Jocko.

'Here's to you lads for helping me out,' said John.

They knocked back their Bundies, and sighed with satisfaction. 'Just one more,' suggested Peeto.

'Let's have a Scotch,' said Jocko, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows. 'It's a special occasion, is it not, and nothing's better than Scotch.'

An hour later they staggered out of the pub, happy and hazy, full of beer and Bundie, and made their way back to the vet's. There they found Red Dog in spirits almost as good as their own, and such was their state of happiness that they read the sum at the bottom of the vet's bill several times before they appreciated how big it was. 'Would you mind,' asked John, 'if we paid you later? Some of the boys are having a whip round.'

'We haven't got this much,' said Peeto.

'If we pay it now we couldn't buy enough petrol at the servo to get us home,' said Vanno. 'We'd have to push it all the way from Whim Creek.'

The vet looked at their anxious and slightly drunken faces, and decided he could take the risk of deferring payment, but he warned, 'I don't think any of you should be driving. You've had a few too many.'

Such was their confidence, inspired by alcohol and relief, that the four fellows decided to drive home anyway. Somewhere near the Sherlock River bridge, however, they realised that behind them was a car approaching quickly, with its blue light flas.h.i.+ng.

'Oh, jeez,' said Peeto, 'it's the coppers.'

'We'll help you pay the fine,' jested Vanno, and then regretted it later.

Peeto pulled in to the side, and got out of the car as the policeman approached him with his notebook at the ready. 'h.e.l.lo, Bill,' said Peeto.

'I'm not Bill when I'm on duty, mate,' said the policeman, who was in fact one of Peeto's neighbours.

Peeto couldn't resist saying, 'And when you're on duty I'm not ”mate”. I'm ”sir”.'

That was Peeto's big mistake. No-one with any sense should be cheeky and clever with a traffic policeman who has been on duty for six hours and has become so bored with sitting at the side of the road in his car that he is in just the right frame of mind for being nasty to someone.

Peeto failed the breathalyser test, and the policeman wouldn't let him off, even though he had been one of the saviours of the famous Red Dog.

Next day during smoko they worked out how much it had all cost. There was the loss of the day's wages, the cost of the petrol, the food and the booze, there was the vet's bill, and the fine for driving whilst under the influence of alcohol.

'Hey,' said Vanno glumly, 'what say the next time we fly a surgeon in? It's gotta be cheaper than this.'

One evening John was sitting in his hut drinking tea, when there was a scratch at the door. It was Red Dog's scratch, so he got up to let him in. Just as he was reaching the doorhandle, however, there was also a knock. 'Strewth,' thought John, 'Red's learned a new trick.'

He opened it, and there was Red Dog with someone he had never seen before. She was a woman in early middle-age, with a tightly permed hairstyle and a worried but resolute expression.

'Sorry to bother you,' she said, 'but I've come about the dog.'

'I'm not selling him,' said John. 'In fact I'd sooner sell me mum. If she was still alive, that is.'

'Oh, I don't want to buy him,' said the woman. 'I've just come because I'm worried about him, and I know he's yours.'

'Belongs to everyone, really,' said John, 'but I'm his best mate. What's up then?'

'It's the ticks,' said the woman.

'Ticks?'

'Yes. Look, my name's Ellen Richards, and I just moved up here from Perth, and I've got a job at Hamersley, in the admin office, and I heard there's a problem with ticks round here.'

'Yes,' said John, 'you burn 'em on the backside with a hot needle, and they drop off, and you kill 'em in metho.'

'Yes,' said Ellen. 'It's just that Red Dog visited me this evening, and I couldn't help noticing that he's got ticks.'