Pet Advice

“Who’s a beautiful boy, then? Yes, you are, yes, yes, yes. Daddy loves you. Yes, he does. Look at those beautiful eyes and pretty little nose. You want Daddy to scratch under your chin? There, you like that, don’t you.”

Watching this outpouring of love between animal and human, the two men perched several meters above the watering hole on a short cliff ledge somewhere in the Northern Territory of Australia, stood dumbfounded at the scene taking place below them.

“Wotcha make of that, mate?” The bearded of the two asked.

“That’s a fuckin’ new one for me,” was the reply from the cleaner-shaven of the two.

“Nah, yeah. Me too. We are seeing this right, mate. Right, mate?”

“Unless we’re drunk and halucinating.”

“It’s ten in the mornin, mate.”

“That late, already? You bring any stubbies?”

“In the eski, mate.”

“I’m gonna need one, coz he’s doin’ my head in, down there.”

“They’re all supposed to have moved on at this time of year, aren’t they?”

“Nah, yeah, mate. I think this one is his pet.”

Cracking open a couple of tins of beer, the two men unfolded their camping chairs and settled in to watch the show, as the man in the water below them continued to lavish praise and love on his pet.

“Roll over, Brucie. That’s a good boy. Oh, you are so adorable. You know it, don’t you. Yes, you do.”

From their elevated perch, the two accidental voyeurs watched and listened to the frolicking below that made them appreciate their heritage.

“You don’t get any more true blue than that, do ya, Bill.”

“Yeah, nah, mate,” replied the bearded man. “You got any pets, Bazzer?”

“Had a Kelpie once.”

“Working dog?”

“Yeah, nah. Lazy bugger. I think he was part Pekingese.”

“That’s a strange combo, mate.”

“Nah, yeah. I think that was on his dad’s side.”

“Crikey! That must have been like climbing a mountain for a shag.”

“Nah, yeah. I reckon the frisky little bugger waited till the bitch was asleep on the floor and just took advantage.”

“I might have also been prone to do that in my younger years.”

“Erm, I think that’s called sexual assault, mate.”

“I was married at the time.”

“Gotta ask permission nowadays.”

“What!? To shag your wife?”

“Don’t need my permission for that, mate. Just ring her up. I’m sure she’ll give you mates rates.”

“Ripper, mate. Text it to me.”

“If I didn’t feed him on time, he’d take a shit on my bed – whether I was in it or not.”

“Who did?”

“The Kelpie, mate. Keep up with the topic, won’t-cha?”

“Sorry, just looking at that fella below. He looks like he’s wearin’ Budgie Smugglers.”

“Nah, yeah. If he had the squids, it’d be worse.”

“Erm… Oh, the dog! Right, sorry, mate. What did you do to stop him shittin’ in your bed?”

“I learned to fuckin’ feed him on time, mate.”

“You kept him, then?”

“Yeah, nah. The ex-missus took him in the divorce, but he ran off one day, chasing some sausage dog across the park and disappeared.”

“Well, at least you didn’t have to wake up with dog shit all over you, anymore.”

“Nah, yeah. mate. Still, I miss that little poopin’ pooch.”

“What do you think that fella down there feeds his pet?”

“I reckon he finds his own tucker, mate.”

“I bet he doesn’t shit in his owner’s bed.”

“Yeah, nah, mate. He don’t really look the cuddly type you’d invite onto your covers, anyway.”

“Skin deep, mate.”

“Howzat?”

“Beauty. It’s all in the way you perceive things. It’s in the beholder. Pets, cars, women. Ever wonder why some men marry ugly women?”

“So no-one else will fuck ‘em, mate.”

“Fair point.”

“I’ve never gone to bed with an ugly woman.”

“Yeah?”

“Nah, yeah, mate. Woke up with a few, though.”

“The beer goggles syndrome.”

“Too right, mate. But it’s a fact that they don’t make people prettier to look at. Nah, mate, drinking excessive beer doesn’t make people look more attractive.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah, mate. It just makes you less selective, and at 2AM in the morning, time is of the essence. I was travellin’ across country one time, when I stopped and checked into a country town hotel with a pub attached to it. At 10 o’clock in the evening, it was packed to the rafters at a ratio of three-to-one. For every woman, there was about three men. Come 2AM, that ratio was up to five-to-one and when everyone got kicked out for the night, it was like watching the footrace for that French car race. You know, where they have to run and jump into their cars, then drive for twenty-four hours.”

“Le Mans, mate.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I reckon them country people live life to the fullest. You talk about beer goggles. There was a few of those country girls that would have won first prize in a heifer contest, but that didn’t matter at all to the sheep farmers taking ‘em home on their tractors. There was one sad dejected Ocker, who leapt naked onto the back of a grazing alpaca in a nearby field and went on the ride of his life, until the alpaca threw him off. That was as close to any warm fuzzy contact he got that night.”

“I had a pet alpaca once, Bazzer. Bought him from an alpaca farm. Well, I bought him a mate as well, so he wouldn’t get bored. Trouble was that every time I tried to get close to pet him, his mate would charge at me and spit on me.”

“Jealous type, was he?”

“I named him Pooftah.”

“No wonder he spat at ya. What’d you name the other one?”

“Bender.”

“Is that not a bit bigoted and anti LGBT?”

“What’s LGBT, mate?”

“Stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans.”

“So, if someone asks one of those people their preference, they just answer with a letter instead of the word?”

“Yeah, nah, mate. You can’t ask them that, no more.”

“Then, they need to have a more diverse selection of dunnies in the pubs, then, mate.”

“What, like Mens, Womens, Gays, Lesbians, and all that?”

“Nah, yeah, mate.”

“Yeah, but which ones get the urinals?”

“Did you know, they’ve got ‘em for women, now.”

“Git fucked! They can piss standing up, now?”

“Nah, yeah, mate. Got ‘em over in Germany. Prevents any contact with the porcelain. More hygienic, they say.”

“Whatever next, mate. Thing is, I like a bit of a sit-down in the morning. Keeps the splashes off the floor.”

“Ya Sheila.”

“You should try it, mate. It’s liberating. Easier on your back, as well.”

Suddenly, a huge splash drew their attention back to the watering hole below – where the loving pet owner appeared to be in a bit of distress.

“Take a squizz at that, mate,” said Bazzer.

“Not so cute and cuddly now, is he.”

“Why anyone would want a Croc for a pet, beats me.”

“Nah, yeah, mate. He looks as mad as a cut snake.”

“Nah, yeah, mate. That croc’s spewin’ as well.”

“I was talkin’ about the croc, mate.”

“Oh? Nah, yeah, mate. I see what you mean. I reckon he forgot to feed his little precious pet.”

“Looks like it’s feeding time now, mate.”

“Reckon he’ll be looking for a new owner, then. You know, his next meal ticket?”

“Nah, yeah. I see what you did there, mate. Should we do something to help?”

“Not unless you want to be dessert.”

“Nah, yeah. Good point, mate.”

“Looks like the pet owner’s chucking a wobbly and fighting back. Nah, my mistake. That was the croc doing his death roll.”

“Who in their right mind would want a croc as a pet?”

“Clowns wearing budgie smugglers, I reckon.”

“Nah, yeah, mate. Chuck us another stubby, there, would ya?”

“Here ya go.”

“Good on ya.”

“You reckon we should call the park ranger?”

“Nah, yeah, mate. Once that croc has shit out his owner, someone will have to identify the remains.”

“Let’s hope his budgie smugglers survive the journey, then.”

“Why’s that, mate?”

“They looked a unique design. Someone will recognise ‘em.”

“Too right, mate. Too right. Cheers…! So, getting back to having pets. What’s your best advice on what to get?”

“Something furry and cuddly that won’t fuckin’ eat you in your sleep.”

“So, no crinkly crocs, then?”

“Only on your feet, mate. Only on your feet.”

“Cheers, mate.”

“No worries, mate. Lovely up here this time of year, ain’t it…”