Saturday, April 26, 2008

Two and a half weeks off. Starting two days ago, and since spent getting the battle truck serviced, batteries charged and loading up with with supplies (mostly beer).

On Tuesday, I head north. It'll be the first trip in about 13 years that my little black mate won't be with me to stand guard at night.

Nooft the guard dog on a cold morning. (The lazy cunt never collected any wood for the fucking fire).

The old boy died peacefully last week after a fucking good innings and an illustrious career around town including;
  • dodging the shire rangers for over thirteen years, who despite their best efforts, were unable to ever place him in custody or corner him. He used his bush skills to good reward and always managed to get back behind the gate then proceed to bail them up and not let them in. They also never knew his real name, as when he had to be registered, he gave his name as "Just Fucking Dog", which the receptionist recorded as "Dog" 'cause she was a typical sort of shire office anal cunt that couldn't bring herself to accept the name he gave.
  • Free range dog. He set the rules early on in the piece when he once fucked off on his own holiday for about six weeks, when he did not come home. After that it was - ok you made the rules - I'm fucking off for a bit see ya later. And he'd look after himself till I got home.
  • Rooting most of the bitches in town. Sometimes taking over the owners yard for a while resulting in an impressive line up of new contenders to continue the role of town dog.
  • Having two crossed sticking plasters put over a 1cm deep 4cm long wound in his foreleg (from fighting his doggy mates) and being told to fucken leave it alone, and he did. For the six days I was away. I took them off when I got home and the wound was knitted nicely
  • Biting any cunt that deserved it. (Looking at him, speaking too loud, flinching when nipped, walking on our side of the road, trying to pat him)
  • Never biting me despite me giving him shit all the time (sneaking up and grabbing his ear when sleeping, giving him a leg bone - then taking it back a few times)
  • Never shitting in the yard or chewing up my stuff
All in all, a fucken top dog.

He's resting now, next to his grandmother in a mates paddock near a dam, where they share a fig tree.

RIP Nooft.