A Dog to Break the Back of The Red Bellied Black

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?