If Animals Could Speak: Book Two

By Chris Gray

This is the second book in the series If Animals Could Speak and relates the events of the six years following the end of book one.

These tales continue to explore the loyal friendship of the many animal companions whose company I’ve enjoyed. As mentioned in the first book, many of the stories I share here are humorous since animals of all species and ages can be truly comical. But life doesn’t always go according to plan, so some reminiscences are quite sad. However, most tales just tell the story of animals being themselves and displaying their own brand of intelligence and wisdom, patience and compassion, curiosity and sense of adventure.

Having spent the previous 11 years observing, experiencing and enjoying the antics of my companions I still felt the best way to learn about them was to stop, to watch and to think about the actions and reactions I witnessed. If you’ve already read my first collection of stories, you’ll know I believe animals aren’t dumb. And after that first decade I also realised that I’d only just started to understand their language and translate it into human-speak. My menagerie over this current period included six dogs, seven cats, four horses, but
still no ‘partridge in a pear tree’.

As you read these stories you’ll notice I’ve again included the mistakes I made and the lessons I learned. All my life I’ve treated animals with dignity and respect. I also mention attitudes that slowly changed during this time.

Once again, I sincerely hope that those who read this book will enjoy my companions’ adventures in their own right. And if you gain a little more insight into how your own animal friends relate, either with you or with each other, then I have achieved my goal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9780980718737

Book preview

2016

PART ONE

GLENEAGLE

Time to Move

September 1983

After seven years living on a two-hectare property at Jimboomba, just south of Brisbane in country Queensland, my husband Rob and I decided to downsize in May 1983. We decided to move closer to the small rural town of Beaudesert in the Gold Coast hinterland where we hoped Rob could find a part-time job. That would also mean I’d be in a position to start looking for part-time work closer to home than Moorooka, quite a drive away, and we figured the income from both jobs would be enough for us to get by.

We had a few false starts with the sale of our property but in September that year everything fell into place. We sold the house and moved to Gleneagle, a small settlement just north of Beaudesert.

Along with us went the dogs Kelly, Pete and Kim; cats Sooty, Gus and Ingrid; and one very handsome gelding, El Carillo Dorado. Just before we left Jimboomba, however, we took in another animal in desperate need of a good home. And so the saga continued …

Our new home was a small two-bedroom cottage. What it lacked in size and mod cons it made up for with a lovely view over a rural valley. The property came with two paddocks plus the house yard. The fences were so ramshackle that we couldn’t keep anything smaller than a calf from stepping through and onto our corner-block property.

Although it took him a while because of his back injury, Rob completed a dog run and we purchased a large insulated kennel roomy enough for our three dogs to share. I was still working at the Moorooka foundry, where I’d been promoted to accounts clerk. Working so far from home meant I spent a lot of time travelling to and from work but Rob still hadn’t found a job.

Dorado, Meet Star

Star was the latest addition to our animal family. A chestnut mare, who either through ignorance or negligence was left to starve in a barren, grassless paddock, she was rescued from her owner by our friend Laura who was horrified at the mare’s condition. As Laura didn’t have room at her place for another horse, she asked us if we could give Star a home. That’s why we arrived at our new property with two horses: one fat as a fool and the other skin and bone.

I was half expecting a visit from an RSPCA inspector during the first few weeks as I’m sure the neighbours were wondering whether the fat horse would lose weight or the skinny one fatten up. Either they looked at the dogs’ condition and assumed there was a reason the chestnut mare was so thin or they decided it was none of their business. I certainly hope it wasn’t the latter as I always believe in getting involved if I see something that doesn’t seem right.

With lots of good grazing in the paddock and a special diet of grain, it didn’t take long for this gentle and intelligent mare to put on weight and begin to enjoy life again.

While Dorado and Star accepted each other from the start, there was one small hitch. Every now and then Dorado decided Star needing ‘herding’ from one part of the paddock to another. I guessed from his point of view he needed to do this so he could assert himself as the stallion in the paddock but anyway Star couldn’t have cared less.

I’m Here, Don’t You Know?

Dorado took only one day to settle in and check out the extent of his domain: in other words, the position of the fences. Once he’d sussed out his boundaries, he decided it was time to let the world know he’d arrived.

Whenever another horse was ridden past our place, my gelding would act out his stallion role. No matter where he was in the back paddock, Dorado would gallop over to the dam and up along the back wall. Once he’d made his grand entrance, he’d stop and pose for the passersby. He always stood with one front leg raised, tail held high and neck beautifully arched as he tossed his head and shook his mane.

When he felt the world was watching him, he’d issue a challenge to the passing horse and rider: This is my domain. Don’t you try to set foot in my paddock or I’ll give you ‘what for’. And by the way, don’t you think I’m the handsomest stallion you’ve ever seen? I think I am! After that he’d just stand there posing and expecting to be admired—which invariably he was much to the stroking of his ego.

I know a few riders were worried he’d jump the fence and possibly chase them because they thought he really was a stallion but I knew it was a case of ‘all show and no go’.

A Sense of Fair Play

October 1983

Although my canine friends had the occasional grumble among themselves, these were always over just as quickly as they started. All three dogs were content to plod on enjoying life and not worry about creating ‘mountains out of molehills’. The following is a perfect example of what I mean.

Before Rob and I bought this property, the house had been rented by a teacher at the local high school. This young fellow didn’t have any pets and so he was quite happy for the two dogs from the adjacent corner property to visit each afternoon. Because of this established routine, these dogs naturally considered our property belonged to them so they continued to visit when we moved in.

Our visitors took a while to understand the situation had changed, however. We never yelled at the visiting dogs or physically chased them off, so our dogs never felt the need to ‘protect’ our property. All we did was meet the ‘neighbours’ in our front yard and explain repeatedly, quietly and firmly: You’re good dogs, but this isn’t your place anymore. Go home please. It didn’t take too long for their afternoon visits to stop. Well, sort of …

Kim didn’t understand these other dogs and so to her they just didn’t exist. But the situation was a little different for Pete, our young dog, and Kelly, our older one. The neighbour’s dogs were a match age-wise and were also both males. The young dog, Rusty, was a tan german shepherd cross, and the older dog, Patch, was a white and brown beagle cross.

Now, as you may know, older animals can become a bit vague and sometimes deceptively stubborn just like some older humans. Kelly would wander over to visit Patch a few days each week and Patch would return the visits on the other days. Just like two elderly gentlemen, they got together to discuss old times and how much things had changed:

You know, I can remember when … one would say.

Yes, I know just what you mean, the other would respond.

And what about some of the young whippersnappers these days? No manners. No respect for their elders.

What’s a whippersnipper got to do with anything? Pete was heard to mumble one day. Being from the younger generation, he’d never heard the term ‘whippersnapper’.

The old dogs would lie down next to each other, in sun or shade, reminiscing as if they’d been friends for years. From our point of view this was fine and the neighbours didn’t mind either. But Pete and Rusty weren’t so sure.

When Kelly went visiting, Rusty would tolerate it for a while before interrupting the conversation: I think it’s time you went home, the young dog would inform Kelly and then would gently herd Kelly off his property. By that I mean he’d shoulder Kelly towards the front gate and then walk with him across the road to our front gate. At that point Pete, who always kept an eye on his wandering friend, would take over the escort duties. For some reason Pete always walked Kelly all the way up onto the front patio.

In a reciprocal arrangement Pete would allow Patch to visit for a while. When he decided it was time for the visitor to go home, he’d politely interrupt the tête-à-tête: Excuse me, you two, but I think it’s time for Patch to go home.

As Patch realised there was nothing to be gained in trying to argue the point, he’d allow Pete to slowly herd him off the property and across the road. If Rusty wasn’t at the gate to meet them, Pete would take it upon himself to escort the elderly dog towards the front door, by which time Rusty had always appeared to take over. Even when Pete ventured too far onto Rusty’s property there was no antagonism. The two young males would greet each other, tails erect and wagging slightly and then they’d both back off and Pete would return home.

Pete and the Dogfight

November 1983

One afternoon I took Kelly, Pete and Kim down the back paddock for a walk. Dorado and Star were grazing nearby. One of the cattle dogs from the property behind us came through the back fence and headed straight for Pete. My good-natured dog had never been in a serious fight in his life and I think he assumed this dog was ‘friendly’ just like his neighbour Rusty. However, I saw immediately the dog meant business and I was concerned Pete would get hurt. As I had nothing to hand to use as a weapon to chase off the other dog, I hoped the invader would not attack Pete if he didn’t show any aggression so I yelled at Pete: Pete! No! Sit!

By this time Pete realised something was amiss and despite his instinct for protecting his turf as well as that of self-preservation, I had to give him the credit he deserved. He obeyed my orders to sit down and just watched the other dog heading straight for him. Well, Pete’s non-aggression didn’t work. The other dog jumped on top of him and tried to clamp his jaws around Pete’s throat. Finally I yelled at Pete: Get him Pete! Kill the mongrel! or something ladylike along those lines. Better late than never on my part.

Because dogfights terrify me, I started yelling for Rob to come and help. Although Kim was a female, she now showed she was prepared to join in a fight if the need arose. She jumped in and tried to help her friend. Poor old Kelly was jumping up and down on the spot with worry. I could see he was just about wringing his front paws as he lamented: Oh dear! Get him Pete. Look out there. Do be careful. Oh Kim, I say, should you be doing that? Um, Dorado have you noticed what’s going on here?

Dorado stopped grazing and raised his head as soon as he heard Kelly’s bark. When he looked in the direction of the commotion, he noticed a strange dog in the paddock. To make matters worse this impudent dog was attacking one of his small friends. Dorado screamed in fury and cantered over to the fight, snorting through flared nostrils with his neck arched and mane and tail flying. I saw the fire in his eyes as he started half-rearing and striking at the intruder. He judged things so well that Pete and Kim weren’t in any real danger of being hurt as the ‘stallion’ (sorry, gelding) danced around the dogs.

By the time the invader realised what was happening, all hell had broken loose in his vicinity. The dog had been so intent on attacking Pete it took him a moment or two to finally realise that a fiend from hell had descended on him. The cattle dog quickly decided discretion was definitely the better part of valour and he took off for home at a fair rate of knots.

Despite the dog’s retreat, there was no way Dorado was going to let the intruder get away so easily. Still voicing his rage, the gelding took off down the paddock in hot pursuit. He managed to land a few more glancing blows on the dog’s retreating back. I don’t think that dog had ever got through a fence so quickly in his life.

My wonderful gelding pranced up and down the fence line for a few moments, still snorting and tossing his head. When he was quite sure the dog wasn’t coming back and the danger had passed, he trotted back up to check on Pete. Dorado bent his head down and gently sniffed Pete’s head and back: Are you okay mate? the horse asked with concern.

Yes I think so, Pete responded. I’m sure Mum’s going to check me out to make sure I’m not mortally wounded. I don’t feel too bad but I got a heck of a fright though. Thanks for your help, by the way. I’d like to say I had everything under control, but I didn’t really. Pete admitted.

When he was satisfied his friend was okay, Dorado sauntered off. Pete turned to Kim and said: You might just be a girl and sometimes a bit stupid, but you’re also very brave. Thanks for … well, you know.

That compliment, although a bit backhanded if you think about it, made Kim ever so happy.

She wandered off in the general direction of the house and it was clear she was feeling very pleased with herself and the world at large.

Kelly approached Pete and apologised: I’m sorry I wasn’t much help but I just didn’t know what to do. That’s why I called out to the horse.

That’s okay. I know you would have helped if you could. By the way, that was good thinking.

Once all the animals had sorted themselves out, it was my turn to check on Pete.

Let’s see what damage has been done, shall we? I asked him. As I moved my hands gently over his body I found a few shallow teeth marks, but all in all he was fine. It was a case of more noise than action during the fight. However, I knew Pete was severely stressed: You’re going to survive your injuries, my friend. But I think you need just a bit of medical attention. We’ll go up to the house and I’ll get my doggy medical kit.

Before we headed off to the house for the imminent ‘surgery’, I walked over to our equine hero to check him out for injuries as well. I