This little dude, posing for photo taken by Steve Parish, has made me screech oosh mooosh iddle baby over and over He is a six month old dingo and potentially the cutest little thing I have ever seen.
He reminds me of my own dog, a German Shepherd cross Red Cattle Dog, who is often mistaken for a Dingo, merely because of her colouring. We adopted her from the RSPCA when she was six months and I often find myself wishing we adopted her when she was as little as the guy in the picture as she would have been the cutest, most adorable little puppy. With big ears and long white socks. Ahhhh, too cute. But, in so many ways we were lucky to get her at six months old, when we brought her home.
Of course, as is usual finding a dog wasn’t without drama. LSH didn't want a dog just yet. He thought we should wait a while, since he’s really very sensible. He said, “We’ve only just bought the house, we really should spend our efforts sorting this place out, decorating, buying furniture and then we can get a dog, when we have more time to dedicate to its wellbeing.” A good, solid, valid rationale. Only, I didn’t want to wait. I wanted a dog. A dog was the only reason we had bought the house. Or else we’d have bought some cool, inner urban unit, close to the water, not a sensible house in the suburbs.
So one fine Saturday, at a loss for something to do, I suggested we go to the RSPCA. LSH agreed. I’m still not entirely sure why. Perhaps he didn’t know me well enough back then and somewhat foolishly thought I was into window shopping. Anyway, we walked through the RSPCA, me looking desperately at all the dogs, hoping they would make eye contact with me and we’d share a moment. LSH was trying not to make eye contact with any of them, or me, for that matter. I gushed at every puppy, hoping that it would soften the corners of LSH mouth and he’d agree to taking a little puppy home. But alas, LSH or Captain Eyes Straight Ahead, was buying into my plan.
We very nearly left that day without a dog. Until, on the last stretch, I saw her. A little Ginger and white pup, with her back to me. As we approached she turned her head over her shoulder, whites of her eyes showing to look at me for only a second then turned her head away. That was it. I was smitten. We’d had a connection and she was going to be our dog. A sign was attached to the chicken wire gate that kept her in her cage and it said her name was Ginger and that she behavioural issues. I look at LSH and said, “well so do I”. The RSPCA volunteer laughed. Clearly she had not spent nearly enough time with me to know that I wasn’t really joking.
Ginger was brought out to meet us and I patted her and knew that she was the little girl I had to have in my life. LSH was stand-offish and didn’t dare come close, but after some cajoling, he managed to pat her and begrudgingly said she was a nice dog.
“A nice dog?” I asked mockingly, “she’s the perfect dog.”
LSH said we had to think about it. I burst into tears. I stamped my feet. I refused to leave. And then the behavioural issues start to show. LSH had to placate me somehow and managed, “if you still want her tomorrow, we’ll come back and get her.”
Sniffling and spluttering. I agreed, gave Ginger a kiss and said, “I’ll be back for you.”
LSH and I returned home. I could barely speak. I was so besotted with my little girl the thought of not having her made me feel very ill.
I do this thing when I’m thinking about something emotionally charged. I am silent for quite some time and then blurt out nonsensical half sentences in a bid to win an argument/case with LSH. Most often we will be talking about something completely ordinary like what we might have for dinner then I will blurt out some rationale about moving to Sydney or something peculiar. We’ve been together for so long now he can now, he can feel me thinking and patiently waits for my random Tourette like comment.
Needless to say, I Touretted all evening over the benefits and negatives of having a dog right up until 3am, when I woke LSH up and said I want the dog. Too tired to care, he said, “Okay”.
By 7 am I was up and dressed ready to pick up Ginger. We were at the gates just as they were opening. The same RSPCA volunteer was there as the day before and she asked, “Are you here for Ginger?” My heart thudded against my chest, she hadn’t been adopted by someone else. Hooray. I ran down to her wire and concrete cell and swept her up in my arms. She was completely taken aback, but quickly settled into the whole concept of being cuddled and kissed by a crazy woman.
I smile as I type this. That was one of the best days ever. I still love coming home to Ginger. I still love cuddling her and kissing her between the ears. I love watching the way she does things and solves small problems – like how to get a piece of food from my plate to hers. She is my fur child as well as being the leader of our pack. I keep trying to be a good dog parent and hope that she’s completely happy and realises that she’s completely and utterly adored.
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