ESCAPADES IN EXMOUTH

When in Rome ….

Lawson, the Australian sheepdog, had ridden alongside his Rolling Solo traveller for almost 10,000 kilometres across the top of Australia from South Queensland to Exmouth.    She had thought it would be exciting for Lawson, but the truth was that sitting up front in the motorhome day after day, kilometre after long kilometre, would have tested the most patient of pets.   Now in Exmouth, he realised that all the solo travellers with dogs were camped alongside the back fence providing lots of opportunities to howl, bark and generally announce a presence.

However, the camp restrictions were tight and Lawson was still confined – not to the cabin of the motorhome, but tied up alongside the vehicle.   Camp rules apparently.

These rules, it seemed, did not apply to three marauding native birds.    Large as life and with plenty of audacity, these emus strutted from campsite to campsite looking for food and having the gall to poke their heads inside any open caravan doors.    There was nothing Lawson could do about it but just bark furiously if the wicked wayfarers dared to venture into his territory.

Opportunistic to the utmost degree, Lawson eagerly awaited the departure of his mistress on a glass bottom boat cruise as he knew that generous Rollers had offered to pet sit. 

So it was that Lawson was handed over to a rather fussy campervanner who kept telling him to stop licking her.   He was only trying to be friendly as well as testing the waters.   “She will be a pushover, I reckon”, he thought.  “She is very nervous around me.”

When next “something wicked” his way came he knew he had to take pursuit.   He canvassed his lead secured under a flimsy aluminium camp table and knew it would be easy to take off. 

Around the corner came the three.   Seizing his chance he lept out in pursuit of the flightless birds.   A circuit of the camp grounds was completed before the four disappeared into the scrub.  Soon the emus appeared with Lawson closely and loudly following.  The affray was interrupted when several of the campers grabbed his lead and Lawson was led back to his dogsitter.  Oh well, he noted, it was a few days before the marauders again dared to show their arrogant faces around the campsite.

Tin Cans – I can

Johann, the Great Dane won the admiration of all in the Exmouth carvavan park.   He strutted alongside his owner each day as she walked him around the park.  How he would have loved to saunter on one of the many beaches but for some reason  he was not welcome in national parks.

He was craving for exercise and excitement.    Sadly he lay down outside the toilet block as his mistress tethered him to the steel cage which housed aluminium cans.    Not sensing the lightweight cage and its cargo, he stood proudly and decided to do a couple of laps of the park while his owner was busy inside the outhouse.

With limited deliberation, Johann took off.   Closely following him was the cage filled with cans. The noise was horrendous as hundreds of aluminium cans spewed onto the gravel road and as Johann dragged the cage behind him.     Terrified, he ran faster, firmly convinced he was being followed.     He was, but not by the cage and contents.  Several Rollers raced to rescue the terrified pooch, restrain him and lead him back to the toilet block.   Out came his owner, quite oblivious about his narrow escape but perplexed at the amount of cans which littered the roadway and curious about the crescendo of metal hitting gravel which she heard inside the toilet block.