The Loyalty of a Dog

Shepherd's Fear

It had to be Red, it had to! My exhaustion was ignored as my happiness, worry and fear took over. I bound over to him, fighting hard through the water to reach the small bank he’s lying on. I always knew he would be out here, and I was holding onto that slight ray of hope that he would be alright, even if such a wish did fly beyond all reason.

The darkness makes it hard to see, but it’s clear to me now. Now I know where he is and I can sniff him out, his scent is clear in my nose as if he’s the only thing here. Red is here, he’s alive, but he’s very badly hurt.

I’m on his bank now, and there’s very little room for me to stand so I’m half in the water. Red is hurt; it’s not hard to tell. His limp body, draped across the little bump of land at the side of the river, is soaked to the core with the water he’s travelled miles through. He’s weak too, he can’t move. I nudge him, we need to get home, we need to eat, our master needs to know we are alright, but at my slightest touch he yelps loudly.

It’s horrible to see my friend like this, I sense the pain he’s in, I feel it too, and it’s too much. I walk around to his face, look him over and wag my tail with hope he’ll make it. He opens his sad eyes to look at me, I wag my tail more, but he just closes his eyes again. He’s given up.

I whimper and splash around him in the steadily rising water; I go to nudge him but remember his pain, and whimper again. This can’t be, Red is so strong, he’s always made it through things like this. When he was just over a year old he found the kangaroo bait our master put down and gobbled the lot, but he just threw it up! He behaved like he’d never even eaten it. Later that year he fell into the cattle yard and broke his hind leg, but he pulled through. The next year he swallowed a pocket knife, a whole pocket knife! He had to be taken off the farm, but he came back in a few days as bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever! I don’t know how he does it, but he always pulls through. When death stares him in the face, he stares back and barks at it till it runs off with its tail tucked between its legs. He’s never just, given up! He can’t.

I’m still whimpering, he may’ve given up, but I sure haven’t. Off in the distance I hear a dingo howl, and then another. There’s a howl from just over the ledge. I climb up the bank with little ease, it wasn’t that steep or tall but it was still slippery, to a dingo bitch standing a short distance away from me. A few more distant howls were heard, responded to by this dingo. Was she also lost?

I know how territorial dingoes can be, and even though they’re on our property, this is their territory. There’s a gust of wind that comes from behind me and the dingo catches my scent. It turns suddenly, shocked by my sudden appearance. I don’t want any trouble, I just want to protect Red, but that won’t matter to her if I’m defiant and possessive. I bow my head in surrender and turn it to whimper towards Red. She sniffs the air and she knows; she understands why I’m here and what has happened.

Another howl comes from the horizon, its closer this time. The dingo turns her head back towards the sound of her family, then back at me. I let out a low bark to urge her on her way, and she races off into the darkness. Such a beautiful dog; so poised, so bold, so humble a beast. I highly respect these members of my family, I’m proud to be classed alongside them.

I turn my attention back to Red. I look down the ledge half expecting him to be at least sitting up, but he’s still. The water has risen higher; he’ll soon be swept under the water once again. I want to go back down to him, I want to be with him, I want to help him, but I know it’ll all be for nothing. He’s given up. I look around for something; I don’t know what, just something. Some sign that it’ll all be okay. He can’t leave me. I decide that if this really is the end for Red, it’d be best if he’s left alone. He would want to be alone. I whimper once more to him, but there’s no reply. I yelp, but still, no reply, only his cold and painful shaking that confirms he’s still, barely, alive. This is goodbye for us; I’m leaving my brother for the last time.