The Australian Cattle Dog with its dingo ancestry will deal with a snake instinctively.
The Staffordshire Terrier, aside from being a most lovable pet, has great bravado and will attack anything, no matter what size.
Thus it was that I, together with Luke and Darcy who are named after the famous footballer, were finishing our walk on Cooleman Ridge and descending to the car via a narrow nature trail. Darcy the Cattle Dog was leading Luke, the (female) Staffie. About half way down Darcy lunged off the trail and suddenly was vigorously shaking a thick red bellied black snake in his jaws. He held his head high, doubtless to avoid the venomous bite, but trophy like. I held Luke back and moved in to grab Darcy's lead; alas the Staffie also dived into the fray. I managed to pull both away, hauling Luke by her coat; Darcy saw his job was accomplished. The snake looked finished, ragged but still moving. Both dogs appeared fine but Luke collapsed when we reached home, blood coming from fang points on her snout. Luckily the animal hospital is close by and I zoomed down there as quick as a Stig. She was saved. The cost of the anti venom alone is $AUD960. I wrote the following verse as a tribute to Darcy and his DNA. I'd like to point out that I appreciate snakes and was sad to see it damaged, but nature will take its course.
DARCY , DOG OF DOGS
Darcy is a dog's dog. A god's dog. A dog's god.
Darcy is a god's dog, Le Roi Chien.
Mongrel of mongrels. Sniffer of sniffers.
Barker of barkers. Wagger of waggers.
A dog to break the back
of the red bellied black.
The line is drawn by the dog that is Darce
An old testament dog, in black and white
cast
in bone crunching recrimination
for transgression and/or
altercation
no boutique dapper yapper like you'd see
in a snappy North shore latte cafe
no perfumed manicured accessory
perched on a lap for perfect display
of perfumed manicured accessories
The line that was drawn by the god Darsay
was not seen by the fat red bellied black
who lay in the sun by the side of the track
who thawed himself from winter's chill
whose tale was as old as the will
which binds us.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death I shall fear no evil and
Darcy shook the serpent surely in the
jaws of retribution its belly swashing
brilliant red in blue morning light.
I yelled no no, but to no avail and
its dying now lives in history
the writhing moments of leaching life
inscribed upon on this Friday sun.
And I wonder if god in his prescription
of breaking world in a perfumed garden
with Eve and Adam in blush beauty born
had Darcy rolling on Eden's sweet lawn
I wonder if Darce while sniffing and snuffling
at Eden's pert pores like this doggy does
had spotted a tail, a Tempter's tail
would the tale have been better
for each one of us?
