I believed you couldn’t have a farm without a dog and started my plan of persuasion.  Rod had not owned a dog before and, as we planned on having guests, he put the kybosh on me getting a German Shepherd Dog, which was my choice of breed, having had numerous in the past. He thought we should go to an animal shelter and get a dog that needed a home.

I agreed and we made a quick trip back to Sydney to get one at the animal shelter near Mona Vale. The first dog they showed us was a kelpie. It came out of the kennel at a hundred miles per hour and ran round and round in circles. We tired just watching it and thought we’d never handle that kind of exuberance and panicked at the thought of a three-hour car journey with it. The next dog she showed us was a pit bull terrier. Rod felt their reputation was even worse than a German Shepherd. “Well” said the lady from the shelter. “a cattle dog bites more people than any other breed so that would not be a good idea. The dog you should get is my favourite dog”.

“What’s kind’s that?” Rod asked.

“A German Shepherd. They are the gentlest, easy to train, best-natured dog you can get” was the reply.

“Have you got one?”

“I’ve got a cross”

“We’re not having a cross German Shepherd” I butted in. “That’s where you do have behavioural problems.”

So we looked at advertisements in the paper and found someone who had some puppies and both parents available for us to see. Rod fell in love with a pup who was quite insistent on being petted by him. The dog really picked us.

He was such a good pup on the long journey back to the farm, letting us know when he wanted to go to the toilet. It was such a hot day when we arrived back at Bucca Wauka we decided to have a swim in the pool. Already he was eager to be with us and trying to reach us as we floated out of reach, our eight week old German Shepherd pup fell in and sank to the bottom like a stone. He was so traumatised from this that he developed a dislike of water and swimming from that point on. We named him Mungo, after the band Mungojerry who had the hit Summertime in the sixties. We thought it was appropriate as the jerry indicated his Germaness.

Our family was now complete although Trog was none too happy with the new addition and set to work attacking Mungo at any opportunity. So much so that we felt his first day with us was full of trauma: leaving his parents and siblings, a long car drive then falling in the pool and being savaged by a tiny cat less than a quarter his size.

irene waters © 2013