Friendships Are Enduring And Endearing

Edgar Vance and I met in February 2005. At the Denison Dog Training Club at the Eglinton Showground in Eglinton NSW, just outside Bathurst.

My 8 month old Tri-Coloured Rough Collie, Daisy Mae, nipped his dog, Taz, a fluffy miniature everything, on the nose, while standing in line, at supposedly full attention, at the roll call before Beginners Class starts.

Daisy Mae is there to learn how to socialise. And she has far to go. She’s at Ground Zero and can only go up.

I’m her second home.

Her first home was a breeding kennel.

At an early age, her breeder owner decides not to breed her because she isn’t the perfect specimen. But also decides not to give her to just anyone. She needs a special home.

Because she has a very complex personality.

She has a base note which is of a very gentle, loving dog with a tinge of shyness. A bit like Marilyn Monroe.

Her middle note is a dog with a great love of life and an ‘in your face’ all or nothing approach to everything. Think Whoopi Goldberg.

Her top note is her desire to be top dog and exercise this right whenever possible. Imperious and waspish is part of this persona. A Betty Davis clone.

You can see why she’s not for everyone. She really is a handful.

But Victor and I are the right home for her.

Because in 1988, we acquired a snappy, troublesome, schizoid 8 month old Cattle Dog, Tuffy, who taught me that dog training cures all ills.

Three years of dog training at that grand park of European tradition, the leafy, gorgeous to be in, 195 hectare inner city, Centennial Park in Sydney NSW, was both hard yakka and bushels of fun. But the training and my dedication to her transformed Tuffy into a picture perfect, loving, confident dog.

She was the dog that all the Centennial Park dog trainers referred to when a new arrival with a troublesome dog fronted up at the counter, wanting to know if there was any hope for their dog.

They pointed to Tuffy and said, “Go over and talk to that lady and hear her story.”

17 years later I have a slightly quieter version of Tuffy at the end of my lead.

When we first acquired Daisy Mae in January 2005, her personality was very much Jekyll and Hyde.

Daisy Mae

She’s a beautiful dog and much admired by people.

Sometimes she was accepting and grateful for this admiration.

At other times she couldn’t bear a bar of it.

I often said I never quite knew who she was as she changed minute by minute when in public. She could waft between snappy Betty Davis, exuberant Whoopi Goldberg and soft and cuddly Marilyn Monroe in the course of a short conversation.

At home, with us, she was, and is, always cuddly, loving Marilyn Monroe and over the top Whoopi Goldberg.

And just as alluring.

But her encounter with Ed’s dog, Taz, was typical for her at the time.

Taz is also a foundling. Ed found him online, waiting for a home at the Mudgee NSW RSPCA. At least a 2 hour drive from Bathurst.

But as soon as Ed saw this miniature 6 year old bundle of fluff, looking forlorn, he got in his car, drove to Mudgee and brought him home.

Taz is a calm, placid dog who is devoted to and only has eyes for Ed.

Taz is at dog training because Ed needs a hobby.

Ed is an active, on the go, retired, ex-high flying engineer. Always ready for action. In his heady career days, he travelled the world as chief engineer in charge of major infrastructure projects. An inactive retirement isn’t his cup of tea.

From February 2005 to November 2007, we progressed from Beginners to Class One, Class Two, Class Three and Class Four at almost the same speed.

Ed spent his spare time training Taz to rise to each occasion.

I spent the bulk of my time working on my business and in my spare time, tending to my large hectare of garden and occasionally training Daisy Mae to rise to each occasion.

Daisy Mae took me from class to class, with little input from me, because she loves to work, loves to please me and is a quick learner.

Ed is captivated by Daisy Mae’s beauty and her intricate personality.

And we become good friends.

When I arrive each Saturday at 7:30am, I always park my car under a large, spreading pine tree. Shade is sparse at the Eglinton Showground and I arrive early to get that prized spot.

And to throw a ball to Daisy Mae so she can burn off some excess energy before training begins.

At the mid morning break, I always open the tail gate of my station wagon and Daisy Mae and I sit together, Daisy Mae with her bowl of water and dog treats. Me drinking my thermos of home made lemonade and munching on my people’s treats. Both of us watching the comings and goings of dogs and people.

One Saturday at break time, Ed comes over with Taz, ties Taz’s lead to the bumper bar and sits down next to Daisy Mae for a chat.

My internal alarm bell starts ringing and I quickly jump up and without any explanation, shove Daisy Mae over and sit between them.

To save Ed’s arm.

Just that week, and without any prior warning from Daisy Mae, she almost chews the arm off a stranger who, attracted by her beauty, reaches in to pat her while I have the tail gate open, putting my shopping inside, while parked on the street at Rylstone NSW.

Split second action by me deflects the trajectory of her baring teeth. I manage to avoid a potentially very ugly and harmful scene.

This Saturday, the best she can do is bare her teeth at Taz for invading her space.

From that day on, Ed and I sit on the tail gate of my station wagon at every break and tell each other stories and share experiences, laugh a lot and get to know each other.

And Daisy Mae gets to know Ed and Taz.

So much so that Daisy Mae takes to moving herself next to Ed when he sits down and stops showing Taz her pearly whites.

In November 2007 I call it quits with dog training. Daisy Mae is getting bored with Class Four and needs to go up to Class Five.

Class Five is the top class and only for people who want to take their dogs to trials and win medals.

Which isn’t where I want to be.

Daisy Mae would have loved it, but I just don’t have that kind of time to devote to training and travelling to trials.

Ed takes Taz to great heights. Taz wins his Companion Dog Medal and at the age of ten years, Ed retires him from active training.

Ed is now Secretary of the Greater Western All Breeds
Obedience and Agility Club to keep him involved and Taz just toddles along as the Grand Old Dog of dog training.

And Ed keeps me in his loop with regular emails and best of all, emails of show stopping photographic extravaganzas and world spectaculars that he finds on the web or is sent to him by his large network of friends around the world.

Slide shows of the Antarctic. The Moscow Underground. The Greek Isles. Nature at its most beautiful and alluring.

And downright hilarious jokes and double entendre cartoons.

Ed and Taz helped me socialise Daisy Mae.

She no longer wafts between waspish Betty Davis and Marilyn Monroe in public. She’s always Marilyn Monroe or Whoopi Goldberg. She’s now a stable, confident, full of life dog who is happy in her own skin.

I recently had lunch with Ed in Bathurst. He says he’d love to turn back the clock to the times we sat together on the tail gate of my station wagon, sharing stories and jokes and experiences. He says it ranks as one of his most endearing memories.

Me too!

Outstanding memories enrich our life. And this Guerrilla From The Bush knows that it takes little effort to create them.

Take care,

Carol