The Dosing Strip
Henry had two dogs, one was a Dobermann–Shorthaired Pointer cross and the other was an Alsatian-Collie cross, they were his partners for his pig hunting exploits. The Dobermann, Wally, was a refined sort of a dog, not interested in being patted and very intelligent, not that Fred, the other dog wasn’t, his build made him a bit clumsy, even goofy but he was hard as nails and loyal. Henry had taught Wally manners from a pup and they had sort of grown up together, but Fred came from the dog pound, in modern terminology, he was a rescue dog. And Henry knew there was a risk bringing another adult dog into Wally’s environment, but at first they weren’t at all antagonistic… it was possum hunting season, and Henry, as always had a couple of carcases for dog tucker, so he untied the dogs and fed them a portion each, which they wolfed down.
Knowing they’d have to sort out who was the boss among them, Henry thought it best to sort sooner than later, so he told them both to sit, which Wally did, but Fred’s full stomach filled him with tomfoolery, which Wally took a dim view of, so he snapped at him. A full-on scrap eventuated and after a few moments, Henry separated them, threatening with his boots. He couldn’t pick the winner, but Fred did and he chose Wally. From then on, they were partners with never a growl between them… and it was Wally who taught Fred the manners that Henry required. No matter the distraction, both dogs would walk at heel with Henry unless told otherwise. Wally also taught Fred not to act the fool when pig hunting, because Wally was the finder and needed to be alert.
Dogs have to be registered at the council office, where for a few dollars they were allocated a leather collar with an identifying brass tag riveted to it; dogs were supposed to wear them at all times, but Henry took them off when they were hunting to avoid them being hooked up on branches. There was a regulation that every six months, dogs had to be dosed, a test for hydatids. Sheep carried the disease, and if dogs ate sheep offal, they could pass the disease on to humans. The dosing was to give the dog an aggressive laxative and the droppings were collected for laboratory testing. If a dog was found to be carrying the disease, it was destroyed.
Bert and Henry usually walked the hour and a half journey to the dosing strip, they could have used Henry’s truck, but despite the river crossing, it was an enjoyable walk and qualified as time off from work, so why not? Bert’s bitch, Bess always walked beside him and Henry’s two walked beside him and none of the dogs needed reminding. The dosing strip was a mown area, a chain or so long, beside the road… most roadways are about three carriageways wide, while the actual carriageway was a single lane so there was plenty of room. There was a sign at each end of the strip to say what it was, warning, because it wasn’t exactly the place for a family picnic. A long chain was pegged to the ground and off it were dog chains about a yard apart. The routine was that dogs were clipped to the chain and the owner headed to Angus’ truck. Angus was the tester and he gave a pottle for each dog for the owner to write the dog’s name and registration number on the lid. The pottle was then left in front of the dog. Angus dosed the dog with a drenching gun and waited for the business to appear when he’d scoop it up, and they could go home. It wasn’t always as simple, but that was the theory. Now and then, the laxative didn’t work, so the dog suffered the ignominy of being given an enema.
This day, Bert and Henry were talking to old Tom when Bert scowled at the approach of Doug in his old, grey truck that sounded like it was running on three cylinders. Henry noticed that Doug was wearing his going-to-the-pub suitcoat, and guessed that’s where he’d been or was where he was going, he thought nothing of it… although, what might happen, could end up being his business, because he’d been a part of it. Doug, in a drunken temper, had challenged Bert to a duel with .22 rifles, and Bert with Henry as his reluctant ‘second’ had turned up at the allotted time and place, but Doug had not. Henry had tried his best to talk Bert out of it, but anyway, now Henry wondered what might happen because this was their first meeting since. Doug carefully didn’t make eye contact with them, so Bert asked old Tom if he had a pair of side-cutters in his truck and he did. Straight away Henry knew Bert’s plan; he wanted to cut the valves off Doug’s tyres! Henry appealed to Bert and succeeded to talk him out of it. ‘That’s not a very inventive way of getting back at him,’ Henry had chided, ‘surely you can think of something more… appropriate.’ To which Bert mumbled something incoherent, as he chewed on his pipestem.
While the dosing was going on, Henry was bailed up by Alan, who had a certain political opinion that was the reason most avoided him, and then there was Lloyd, who wanted him to lay possum baits in his turnip paddock; possums were chewing on the foliage. Angus gave Henry a whistle to signify that his dogs were ready and the chains were needed for other dogs. Bert’s bitch had been ready for a while and Bert seemed overly keen to get going. ‘You in a hurry Bert?’ Henry asked, as Bert began striding out than was his usual gait. They stopped at the river to give the dogs a drink after the medicine they had taken, and to wash their hands after touching those pottles. ‘Did you catch up with Doug?’ Henry asked coyly. Bert smiled and nodded.
With Bert, sometimes you have to be patient, but at last he cracked a smile. ‘Doug’s dog will have to get the boo-gee treatment up his bum this time, but it won’t work!’ And he cracked another smile. ‘I picked up his dog’s turd in it’s pottle and managed to tip it into Doug’s flash going-to-the-pub suitcoat pocket!’ And his eyes sparkled.
Henry had questions, but knew he wouldn’t get answers for a while, so he punched Bert lightly on the shoulder, ‘Well that was inventive.’ He said.
