We have taken care of Bo, full name Beaumont McWulf, a very energetic, adorable Kelpie who is meant to be a roughie toughie working dog, but we are fast turning him into a softie.
Day in the life of an OCD Kelpie
At 5am, woof to be let off chain in his kennel, rapturous welcome, eat dog biscuits. check property for new smells, grab stick. Continue morning by staring at hoomans until they throw sticks, then first run of the day racing and beating the ute to the gate. Lunchtime, a solidarity visit to the dogbowl, then jump to stare again solidly at hoomans inside until they respond to the big hint, pile of sticks at the door. He also knows how to nose the door open to come inside and use those pleading eyes for attention. Afternoon is another race with the ute, then more sticks until dinner and bedtime.
On the property are flocks of sheep, various roos, lots of magpies, crows and other birds, and a large, black monitor, known as The Bastard, who glares disdainfully at us while he occupies the top of grass mounds or rockpiles - and even, we hear, known to go into the house and accost the owners.
The local neighbour called for a chat and said he'd be out rabbit and roo shooting in the paddocks in the night, so we decided to let Bo stay with us inside which proved to be a tussle for bed space between all three of us. Late in the evening, the neighbour's ute turned up, Croc Dundee style, with a spotlight on top. We heard the crack of a shot. Suddenly no sign of Bo in the bus. No response to calls. Shining our torch at the back of the bus into a dark tunnel formed by the bed planks, we saw Bo, who hates anything like a thunderstorm, tightly curled up and quiet as a mouse.
He is an Obsessive Compulsive Doggo, obsessed with sticks: we can throw all day and no sign of wearying. We've also got use of an old battered ute with which we give him a good run, racing at full stretch, every day down the 1km and back to the gate.
Day in the life of an OCD Kelpie
At 5am, woof to be let off chain in his kennel, rapturous welcome, eat dog biscuits. check property for new smells, grab stick. Continue morning by staring at hoomans until they throw sticks, then first run of the day racing and beating the ute to the gate. Lunchtime, a solidarity visit to the dogbowl, then jump to stare again solidly at hoomans inside until they respond to the big hint, pile of sticks at the door. He also knows how to nose the door open to come inside and use those pleading eyes for attention. Afternoon is another race with the ute, then more sticks until dinner and bedtime.
For a treat that makes a lot of scents for Bo, we take him down to the beach. Naturally with a stock of sticks and a strong leash, we are towed by a hugely excited Bo to the waterline where we let him off to gallivant after sticks in the surf.
We also had a nice carpet python lazing on the table on the terrace in a food coma, probably from dining on the vociferous Western Banjo frogs twanging all night in the nearby soak.
The local neighbour called for a chat and said he'd be out rabbit and roo shooting in the paddocks in the night, so we decided to let Bo stay with us inside which proved to be a tussle for bed space between all three of us. Late in the evening, the neighbour's ute turned up, Croc Dundee style, with a spotlight on top. We heard the crack of a shot. Suddenly no sign of Bo in the bus. No response to calls. Shining our torch at the back of the bus into a dark tunnel formed by the bed planks, we saw Bo, who hates anything like a thunderstorm, tightly curled up and quiet as a mouse.
On our last day, early in the morning, Bo disappeared. With ever increasing anxiety, we called loudly around the house, alerted the neighbours, drove to the shed and the gate, went to the beaches and then met the returning owners whilst we were still searching. The day wore on, the farmer owner took me on another huge, offroad loop around the wildest parts of the paddocks, back to the beaches, then back home. No Bo. Feeling very sad, we said goodbye to the owners then drove to our campsite outside Albany.
About 6.53pm, just before darkness fell, the neighbour phoned me to say Bo had been found and was tied up a few kms up the road. The finder had phoned the owner of his property who had phoned his son who had phoned the neighbour who phoned me who phoned Bo's owner who went to retrieve the 'Little Shit' which was happily being fed sausage bits and training his new friends to throw sticks for him.
What a rollercoaster of emotions, from thinking Bo had eaten 1080 poison bait, been stolen, got stuck; to hearing he was happily stuffing himself with sausage bits and affection. Lovable little shit, indeed!
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Manypeaks, Farmsitting, Bo, Kelpie, Western Australia
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