Bit 11, Off Caramel smells like rotting lime.
After the vet had stitched Bitssy's ear, back, and legs, tended to her neck puncture wounds, and given her a tetanus and antibiotic shot mixed with a sleeping potion, he was invited to stay and have an evening meal with the close little group. The children’s parents had come over in response to the distressing sounds of the dogfight and the curlews’ urgent call for help. After they locked Caramel into her own yard and angrily told the Caramel owners what had happened, the children’s parents were also invited to stay to tea. Before any food preparation though, the parents were provided with a box of tissues to mop up Matty’s wandering nose mess!
The children were given the task of decorating the Christmas tree while the adults together prepared dinner and talked adult talk about the dogfight. They quietly pondered over which department to tell, to have something done about the Jensen St yellow menace and whether the doctor would be able to see Matty tomorrow and give him a script for antibiotics! While
everyone was chatting, Bitssy’s big person snuck into her bedroom and made a call to report Caramel’s violence. There was no way she would allow her Bitssy to be further terrorised by the Jensen St terror.
Partly because the space was needed for the Christmas tree and mostly because everyone loved Bitssy, she was awarded the throne of achievement, the comfy favourite inside chair from beside the antique glass cabinet. After proudly drawing everyone’s attention to Bitssy’s Private Stripe awarded to her for services towards others’ rights, the big person dragged the chair out and placed it under the fan in the middle of the front verandah. The group, huddled as one, toasted Bitssy’s bravery with home made lime and honey cordial. They raised their glasses, said wonderful things about her courage and her inner strength, clinked their glasses together and drank in Bitssy’s release from her own prison.
Bitssy, her head resting on the arm of the chair, looked back at her human saviours, listened to the excited voices of the children discovering precious decorations, and wondered why she had taken so long to tell Caramel to can it. Even though standing up to Caramel had hurt her, Bitssy knew it would be better in the long run: the only way to stop Caramel’s control. If she hadn't gone out to the front verandah, these sounds of wonderment, joy and people coming
together wouldn't be happening.
Satisfied and proud of herself and her comrades, Bitssy fell asleep, curled around her watchful best friend. Swallowed up by her drug induced sleep, Bitssy’s poor little body quivered and shook while she dreamt of wolves: freedom messengers that demanded being listened to and being given plenty of space to roam her mind without anything killing them off or controlling them. They told Bitssy that her Australian Indigenous birthright had all the answers: her
dreaming. She had to listen and act upon it. She is a dingo, an Australian wolf, a creature skilled with sensing and carving out her territory, acting to defend it, and leading the fight for universal freedom without any other creature chaining her up and treating her like a caged Cockatoo at the zoo. Bitssy tried to roll over and shake the wolverdreaming from her brain. The wolves growled at this disobedience, and showed her a picture of the Great Barrier Reef, a place protected by a barrier, a safe place where if you fish, you will be fined. Bitssy was in this dream picture, not as a clown fish, but as the boundary hunter, protecting the fish.
Fuzzy headed from vet drugs and in a little pain, Bitssy awoke from her weird dream to the sounds of goodbyes. The mosquitos were abuzz with night-time gossip and the candles throughout the front garden had burned down, now looking like tiny ground fairies swaying to the music of the hot tropical jungle. The parents of the sleepy children were taking them home to be tucked into their beds and the vet stroked Bitssy's head, promising that she would soon feel better and that Caramel would get what she deserved.
Marmalade, noticing that top dog was finally awake, licked Bitssy's forelegs. He was purring and encouraging by his presence. Brave Marmalade had taken the uncomfortable position of guarding Bitssy on the front verandah while she slept off the vet’s sedative and pain-killer. Bitssy greatly appreciated his role, particularly given that the big people had cooked seafood for dinner, prawn toast even. Bitssy supposed that the alluring smell must have been rather difficult for Marmalade to stay away from and was wholly grateful for Marmalade’s surrender to personal duty.
"Thank you, Marmalade, you little wolf," croaked Bitssy softly, "Thank you for helping me to get what I wanted most: a life like you have. A life where I know what is mine and what I have to do to make sure no dog takes advantage of me or anyone else. All I had to do was to listen to my dingo instincts about right and wrong, to tell Caramel to back off, and to rely upon my pack of friends to support me. I love you, Marmalade, and now I'm going to kiss you."
Just as Bitssy was about to deposit her long, hot, dry, sick tongue on Marmalade's head, Marmalade lifted her front paw, claws extended and lightly swiped Bitssy on an unhurt part of her nose.
"Back off Bitssy. This is my body and you can’t touch it!"
Shocked, and a little taken aback, Bitssy looked deep into Marmalade’s eyes. When she saw the twinkle and recognised that the cat was just playing, she laughed so hard that tears ran from her eyes, both from joy and pain.
"Hey, hey, wolf dog," growled Marmalade, "Now I'm not joking. You're howling on my body and I don’t like it. Why don’t you just give me a wolf whistle if you love me that much!"
Marmalade jumped down from their love seat, swayed to the front fence and turned his back toward the house across the road. Eyes closed, nose in the air, and a look of untamed daring on his face, Marmalade sprayed a huge smelly tomcat pee.
Wiggling his backside he defiantly said, "Night Caramel. Sniff on this while your butt’s still toasting. This is our barrier and you aint comin’ back!"
Smelling his own territorial mark before covering it over, Marmalade screwed up his nose and complained,
“Phew, smells like rotting citrus. No need to cover this up. Hey, hey, yellow mellow, here’s the lime. Don’t step over it!”
Laughing like a pair of kookaburras, the friends scratched at the door, the front door, to indicate that they wanted re-entry into their cave, and preferably a big plate of prawn toast and scallop mornay.
Eyes spaced wide from shock and leaning against the wall for support, Bitssy tried to copy the big people’s way of showing respect:
“I toast you, Marmalade.”
“Of course you do, Bitssy. You mean you want to leave me the biggest bit of prawn toast, don’t you!”
Not being able to wink like humans when they joke, Marmalade wagged his tail cheekily, like a playful dog, and sped through the door the moment it was opened, straight to the kitchen with the yummy, toasty smell.
Bit 12. A Dog's Body
Bit 13. The Goodbye Van.
Bit 14. Caramel on Toast.
Bit 15. The Final Dreaming.
Eulogy.
After the vet had stitched Bitssy's ear, back, and legs, tended to her neck puncture wounds, and given her a tetanus and antibiotic shot mixed with a sleeping potion, he was invited to stay and have an evening meal with the close little group. The children’s parents had come over in response to the distressing sounds of the dogfight and the curlews’ urgent call for help. After they locked Caramel into her own yard and angrily told the Caramel owners what had happened, the children’s parents were also invited to stay to tea. Before any food preparation though, the parents were provided with a box of tissues to mop up Matty’s wandering nose mess!
The children were given the task of decorating the Christmas tree while the adults together prepared dinner and talked adult talk about the dogfight. They quietly pondered over which department to tell, to have something done about the Jensen St yellow menace and whether the doctor would be able to see Matty tomorrow and give him a script for antibiotics! While
everyone was chatting, Bitssy’s big person snuck into her bedroom and made a call to report Caramel’s violence. There was no way she would allow her Bitssy to be further terrorised by the Jensen St terror.
Partly because the space was needed for the Christmas tree and mostly because everyone loved Bitssy, she was awarded the throne of achievement, the comfy favourite inside chair from beside the antique glass cabinet. After proudly drawing everyone’s attention to Bitssy’s Private Stripe awarded to her for services towards others’ rights, the big person dragged the chair out and placed it under the fan in the middle of the front verandah. The group, huddled as one, toasted Bitssy’s bravery with home made lime and honey cordial. They raised their glasses, said wonderful things about her courage and her inner strength, clinked their glasses together and drank in Bitssy’s release from her own prison.
Bitssy, her head resting on the arm of the chair, looked back at her human saviours, listened to the excited voices of the children discovering precious decorations, and wondered why she had taken so long to tell Caramel to can it. Even though standing up to Caramel had hurt her, Bitssy knew it would be better in the long run: the only way to stop Caramel’s control. If she hadn't gone out to the front verandah, these sounds of wonderment, joy and people coming
together wouldn't be happening.
Satisfied and proud of herself and her comrades, Bitssy fell asleep, curled around her watchful best friend. Swallowed up by her drug induced sleep, Bitssy’s poor little body quivered and shook while she dreamt of wolves: freedom messengers that demanded being listened to and being given plenty of space to roam her mind without anything killing them off or controlling them. They told Bitssy that her Australian Indigenous birthright had all the answers: her
dreaming. She had to listen and act upon it. She is a dingo, an Australian wolf, a creature skilled with sensing and carving out her territory, acting to defend it, and leading the fight for universal freedom without any other creature chaining her up and treating her like a caged Cockatoo at the zoo. Bitssy tried to roll over and shake the wolverdreaming from her brain. The wolves growled at this disobedience, and showed her a picture of the Great Barrier Reef, a place protected by a barrier, a safe place where if you fish, you will be fined. Bitssy was in this dream picture, not as a clown fish, but as the boundary hunter, protecting the fish.
Fuzzy headed from vet drugs and in a little pain, Bitssy awoke from her weird dream to the sounds of goodbyes. The mosquitos were abuzz with night-time gossip and the candles throughout the front garden had burned down, now looking like tiny ground fairies swaying to the music of the hot tropical jungle. The parents of the sleepy children were taking them home to be tucked into their beds and the vet stroked Bitssy's head, promising that she would soon feel better and that Caramel would get what she deserved.
Marmalade, noticing that top dog was finally awake, licked Bitssy's forelegs. He was purring and encouraging by his presence. Brave Marmalade had taken the uncomfortable position of guarding Bitssy on the front verandah while she slept off the vet’s sedative and pain-killer. Bitssy greatly appreciated his role, particularly given that the big people had cooked seafood for dinner, prawn toast even. Bitssy supposed that the alluring smell must have been rather difficult for Marmalade to stay away from and was wholly grateful for Marmalade’s surrender to personal duty.
"Thank you, Marmalade, you little wolf," croaked Bitssy softly, "Thank you for helping me to get what I wanted most: a life like you have. A life where I know what is mine and what I have to do to make sure no dog takes advantage of me or anyone else. All I had to do was to listen to my dingo instincts about right and wrong, to tell Caramel to back off, and to rely upon my pack of friends to support me. I love you, Marmalade, and now I'm going to kiss you."
Just as Bitssy was about to deposit her long, hot, dry, sick tongue on Marmalade's head, Marmalade lifted her front paw, claws extended and lightly swiped Bitssy on an unhurt part of her nose.
"Back off Bitssy. This is my body and you can’t touch it!"
Shocked, and a little taken aback, Bitssy looked deep into Marmalade’s eyes. When she saw the twinkle and recognised that the cat was just playing, she laughed so hard that tears ran from her eyes, both from joy and pain.
"Hey, hey, wolf dog," growled Marmalade, "Now I'm not joking. You're howling on my body and I don’t like it. Why don’t you just give me a wolf whistle if you love me that much!"
Marmalade jumped down from their love seat, swayed to the front fence and turned his back toward the house across the road. Eyes closed, nose in the air, and a look of untamed daring on his face, Marmalade sprayed a huge smelly tomcat pee.
Wiggling his backside he defiantly said, "Night Caramel. Sniff on this while your butt’s still toasting. This is our barrier and you aint comin’ back!"
Smelling his own territorial mark before covering it over, Marmalade screwed up his nose and complained,
“Phew, smells like rotting citrus. No need to cover this up. Hey, hey, yellow mellow, here’s the lime. Don’t step over it!”
Laughing like a pair of kookaburras, the friends scratched at the door, the front door, to indicate that they wanted re-entry into their cave, and preferably a big plate of prawn toast and scallop mornay.
Eyes spaced wide from shock and leaning against the wall for support, Bitssy tried to copy the big people’s way of showing respect:
“I toast you, Marmalade.”
“Of course you do, Bitssy. You mean you want to leave me the biggest bit of prawn toast, don’t you!”
Not being able to wink like humans when they joke, Marmalade wagged his tail cheekily, like a playful dog, and sped through the door the moment it was opened, straight to the kitchen with the yummy, toasty smell.
Bit 12. A Dog's Body
Bit 13. The Goodbye Van.
Bit 14. Caramel on Toast.
Bit 15. The Final Dreaming.
Eulogy.
To purchase Bitss of Caramel Marmalade on Toast please visit this eBay store: Duncan's Emporium Gifts and Curios. They are selling the book at only A$12.00 plus postage. RRP is $15.00 (+ p and h)
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