Some weeks ago I bumped into a friend, Anita, who asked me to bring some empty bags to her place so she could rake up her autumn leaves and bag them for me. She does this every year and we are happy to have them as mulch. It slipped my mind for a while but one day I remembered and took round a big stack of bags. Oddly the big steel gates were closed which I had never encountered previously so I parked outside and carried the bags to where I leave them at the front door about 50 metres along the concrete drive.
About half way back to the gate I heard this roaring, whooshing, pounding sound behind me and turned my head back to see what the hell it was. It was the biggest rottwieler I have ever seen, it looked like a bull, in full charge, at me, thundering up the driveway from the other side of the house. I took a quick look at the gate but didn't think I'd make it if I took flight and would be brought down by this monster and probably have my throat ripped out.
So I turned to face the beast, not out of bravery, but thinking it was my best chance of survival. I reckon I was giving away about 20 kilos to it. Seeing me turn the dog slowed as if to reassess me and thankfully at that moment Anita's husband Garry, who'd heard the barking and snarling, was shouting to call it off. As it turned to him I moved towards the gate steadily and got out very shaky as it ran back. He tied the dog up as I yelled, "Jesus Gary, where did you get that bloody thing."
He came up and explained it was his daughter's dog and she was living with them while building a house. He was amazed I got all the way to the house and nearly back before it saw me. He said it was extremely savage at anything coming in the gate and it's name was 'Dozer', and not because it liked sleeping. I now realized that Anita had told me about Dozer and said I should leave the bags outside the gate, but I had forgotten.
Last Monday morning my phone rang and it was Mal B ringing to tell me there were several things in his garden that needed cutting back, things that I had cut before, about two years apart, and I was most welcome to come and pick there. I said I would call in that afternoon to have a look. He said they were going out but I could go there whenever I wanted as I knew my way around, but they had installed an automatic gate that was a bit tricky. There was a post in front, attached to the gate, that was a trigger to make the gate open, and if I gave it whack with my hand the gate would open and stay open long enough for me to get my van through. He said it was designed to work with a nudge from a car, but don't do that as it rocketed open too quickly. Sounded simple.
There were two dogs on the other side of the gate when I got there, barking and snarling, but the dogs were nothing like Dozer's formidable size, and were there two years earlier and didn't attack me so I thought once I'm in in they would be OK. So I whacked the post and the gate started to open slowly but this infuriated the dogs, who went berserk and started leaping at the other side of the gate. This had the effect on the gate of making it come back to closed, as there was another trigger post on the inside to make it go the other way.
I tried several times but the dogs could see they were winning and became more aggressive, so I gave it away, thinking I'll have to make other arrangements when Mal or Michelle are home.
But I needed some bay leaves as I had arranged my day around picking some at Mal's, so I thought for a minute and remembered Nigel's bay trees. When I got to Nigel's there was a sign on the gate, which had not been there before in the ten years I've been picking in his garden. You guessed it, "BEWARE OF THE DOG".
I looked around and couldn't see a dog, and I rattled the gate to make a dog hear if one was around. I was a bit toey after the fright I had with 'Dozer', but Nigel was the last person to have a savage dog I thought, so in I went up to the front door and knocked. Nigel, whom I hadn't seen for six months, opened the door to my relief and pointed to the trees with one hand while nodding and holding the phone in the other hand and talking.
Later he came out while I was picking and explained that he had been talking to his accountant when I came to the door. I asked him about the sign on the gate and he explained that his friend 'Pink' put that there while she was house minding for him recently. Nigel, in the years I have been picking in his garden, usually three or four times each winter, has been a retired rock star, a member of the successful band 'Split Enz', who loves a quiet life away from the spotlight and working in his garden. The band have just done a two week reunion tour of Australian capital cities which took 6 months to organize and was a huge success. The day Pink moved in she put the sign on the gate and one of her dogs died that night. Out of the blue, just died on the couch. Then the other one was put down the day Nigel came back, after suddenly becoming paralysed in the hind quarters a few days after the other one died, and after much veterinary expense failed to bring recovery. Pink was distraught and forgot to take the sign down, and Nigel said he had been in a daze since the end of the tour.
One thing for sure. I will take no liberties with dogs. 'Dozer' made sure of that.
