Bit 12. A Dog's Body

Bitss of Caramel Marmalade on Toast: A Chapter Each Day

Bit 12, A dog’s body

After the Christmas barbeque, while all the children were playing cricket in the back neighbour’s yard, Bitssy and her next door dogs sat together in the far adjoining corners of their fields of dreams. They discussed Bitssy whipping Caramel’s yellow butt by just standing up to her and how everydogbody needs their own space. The burning sun kept attempting to break up the focused friends by peeping in through the breaks in the shade, looking for a chance to send outdoor nature lovers scurrying for the safety of a house. Whereas the sun convinced the children and the parents to move around, the Dog’s Body Army sat stoic and attentive, like golden wolves on watch.

“I always knew you would get to go into the front world, Bitssy. I couldn't understand why you were so scared. Do you have any idea how many more frogs live out front? These crazy kids scare them to death in the backyard. Our little green mates have to stay out front to survive."

A cricket ball hit the fence, right beside the nature loving dog speaker’s back,

"See what I mean?" he winked one of his bloodshot hound dog eyes. He chuckled slowly, deep and cheekily. "These kids scare the death out of me. Hey you kids, want the ball?"

Mr Speaker picked the ball up in his slobbery, rubbery mouth, dropped his front legs to the ground, bum and wagging tail up and dared the kids to come catch. Just as a freckled little girl approached, her hat slipped down over one of her eyes like an eye patch, Mr Speaker ran for his life. Dashing in the opposite direction, he looked back to ensure that the girl child was giving chase.

“Come on girl, come get the ball,” Mr Speaker teasingly garbled through ball-clad teeth and hot dog spit backwashes that only a basset hound could produce. “Hey, I’ve got dog’s breath, I’ve got stinkin’ dog’s breath,” he proudly celebrated to the others. “Cool! Or hot! Or wicked! Or sick! Or puff! I dunno, I can’t work this big people talk out.”

The other three friends wagged with excitement and dreamt of jumping the fence to join the fun. Bitssy was thinking how wonderful it was to be brave and free. Her heart felt like it would burst into a full flowering sun jewel, a haven for ladybugs and pollinating honeybees. She was as free as a butterfly and as free as Marmalade. Her life was perfect. Her big person, her house, her front and back yard, the most wonderfully safe places in the world to be. This was her space and she loved it. In sheer glee Bitssy did jump the fence and joined the chaotic, yet fun, ball hunt.

Jules, the freckled and fast Mr Speaker chaser, ran toward Bitssy with her arms waving madly. Unsure of Jules’ one-eyed intentions and of what Jules might do to her, Bitssy stopped and cocked her head. Bitssy wanted to have some time to check the danger level before Jules got too close. Bitssy, practising being a full sensing wild dingo, didn’t feel any warning signs in her body about Jules. Normally Bitssy’s body would tingle, the hair on her back would stand up, her knees would turn weak, or she would feel like peeing if she sensed danger. No real danger. It was just that the girl child’s arms were waving around like a dragonfly doing aerial ballet of a suicide bombing nature and the crazy movement had startled Bitssy.

"Hey Bitss," puffed Jules, landing on her knees in front of Bitssy, all off balance like an emu thrown out of the back of a speeding ute, "Come,” puff, “play,” puff, “with us.” Puff, puff, puff. “Help me,” puff “get that ball."

Invitation extended, invitation accepted. Bitssy energetically leap-frogged toward the chase. She then stopped, suddenly. The hairs on her back stood up and her legs trembled like they did when she was cold. Her early warning signs of danger were there for all to see. Worse than the ball melting smell of Mr Speaker’s dog’s breath, was the scene that now attacked Bitssy’s eyes.

On the edge of the big people group, there stood Caramel. Caramel stared at Bitssy and licked her lips. Bitssy’s stinkin’ thinkin’ crept back in and, as she imagined another fight, she became very frightened. She wanted to pee and to return over the fence, to the safety of her back yard. Muddled by the great difference between her own inner fear talk that nobody else seemed to hear, and the very different merry sounds of the after Christmas lunch gathering that everyone could hear, Bitssy tried to feel the dingo power inside her. She tried to imagine what the wolves would have her do. In a moment of remembering, Bitssy tried to summon up the ghostly visiting wolverine, the one with the wild growls. It did not appear.

Sometimes it is easier to give in to old ways of doing things. Weak thoughts can swallow a vitamin boost of power and rapidly wrestle with strong feelings to trick and overpower them. Stinkin’ thinkin’ stinks! Once Bitssy’s weak thoughts had the hand of authority, savagely farting on her brain, her inner fight caved in to the rule of those lurking, rotten, hidden fears.

"Caramel will hurt me. I'm not in my yard. My big person is inside having a nap and Marmalade is doing a lazy Garfield on the chair. I'm all alone. These people won’t help me".

Caramel walked slowly and surely toward Bitssy, head low, her body language screaming volumes of aggression. Frozen with the fear of wrongly imagining what was going to happen, and deafened by the loud aggression leaping from Caramel’s hair, Bitssy stayed chained to the spot. When Caramel was only a dog’s length away, certainly within killing distance, her constant growling clear and threatening, Bitssy's sense of right and wrong began to return. It was almost as if Bitssy needed the growl of wrongness to awaken the voice of her slumbering rightness. A picture of herself as the boundary hunter, protecting the Great Barrier Reef, blew like fresh sea air into her brain. Suddenly she was a water wolf, rising up from the ocean and chasing the fishermen away. The powerful feelings that the water wolf gave Bitssy, chased her stinkin’ thinkin’ to an isolated and deserted island, patrolled by mutant, hungry, fear eating goannas. The island, surrounded by snapping waters full to overflowing with sharks and crocodiles, was impossible to escape from until fear was really needed. There fear cringed and fled from the light as it watched and listened to the voice of strength take control and become the winner.

Firmly standing her ground, head and shoulders on sentry duty, Bitssy now allowed her sleepy body rightness to be fully awoken by the rustling movement of wolf energy. The strength surged through her body like a bolt of lightening. Shaking off the clinging fear as it was being chased from the deepest, darkest, billabong of her dingo makeup, she breathed deeply and calmly and rethought her situation.

"Caramel can’t treat me like this. I might not be in my yard but it is not right to treat others this way. My space is one thing but this is my body, no matter where I am."

Bitssy's buried wolves came to her aid, rounding up her pack of assertive feelings, they tumbled from her jaws snapping the world to attention.

"That's enough, Caramel. I will not put up with your bullying and violence any longer. If you so much as touch a hair on my head, there are big people and other dogs here that will ensure that you do not leave the pound in a hurry. This is my body and I will take it where I want
without fear of you, or anyone else, hurting me. Go home, Caramel. You are not welcome here."

Caramel growled a mean, sly, laugh.

"You make me sick you stupid, skinny, bitsa. I think you'd better leave or I'll tear you to pieces. Look dogs, we've got a bitsa in our presence. Let’s teach her a lesson."

Looking around to the other dogs, Caramel was faced with their undivided and loyal support of Bitssy. After the front verandah bashing, the dogs had all decided that they would no longer be mates with Caramel. Caramel had to learn a lesson and withdrawing companionship was one very small thing they could all do together to stop her treachery. While Caramel thought she was still the Queen of Jensen St, the obvious support toward Bitssy was making Caramel look more like the Court jester.

"Come on pack, let’s get her," demanded Caramel of the other dogs.

Scared, but sure of her rights and body ownership, Bitssy did not move. She knew this was right and she was about to tell.

"Go home, Caramel. This is my body, my Dog’s Body. We look after each other to make sure that no-one is hurt." Bitssy threw her head upwards, her neck stretched to its full extent, and a
haunting dingo howl erupted from her throat. The big people stopped playing cricket and turned toward Bitssy. A couple of the children copied Bitssy, throwing their heads up and yowling too. One by one, the other dogs, Bitssy's Dog’s Body, joined the pack and the call of the wild rang out through Edge Hill. The chorus informed all the dogs of the suburb that Dog’s Body needed
collective support and that Caramel was wrong, she was causing trouble. Individually, all through the suburb, dogs recognised and answered the call. Caramel’s reign of terror was over.

Marmalade and Bitssy's big person dashed out onto their back verandah. Marmalade, fatter than ever after six pieces of smoked salmon on toast, recognised the scene before him.
Instinctively, he knew that Bitssy's fear of Caramel had gone for good. Those wolves were finally out of jail and were running, free, along the changing landscapes of Australia, just like dingoes were meant to. Never again would Bitssy needlessly be scared of something that she had some power of self-control over. Never would she give in to something that wanted to be kept scary and private. She would from now on tell others so that she could lessen the fear and send it off to the deserted island. Never again would her fear talk win above her understanding of right, wrong, and forced control.

Marmalade, fat as a desk general, stood to attention (a bow in his back created by his over filled tummy dragging on the ground). Tail straight to the ceiling, he threw back his head and let go a huge “meeeeeeeeooooooowwwwwww.”

"I salute you, Bitssy."

Observing Caramel slinking away from the house, unsure of exactly what had happened but proud of Bitssy nonetheless, the big person called her. Waving to her neighbours over the fence, she caught sight of a magnificent Christmas pavlova on their table, and remembered that she hadn’t yet had dessert.

“Come on Bitssy, darling. You and Marmalade come inside now, into the air conditioning, and we’ll have a bowl of caramel whip for Christmas afternoon tea. We could even have some toasted caramel in lime coconut, just to celebrate.”

Bitssy’s dog friends looked from one to another and began rolling around the grass laughing, backs wriggling like a semi with an extended trailer turning a corner, front one way, rear the other, and their legs doing circles in the air like they were riding a bike. Bitssy, although seeing the funny side of the dessert offer, did not immediately join the joke. She was proud of her own brave achievement, knew she had done the right thing, but she also felt a wee stab of sadness and loneliness for Caramel. Caramel who had no sweetness in her life, no pack to love her, no-one to share Christmas goodies with, and no dog who would ever put up with her bullying again. How could she eat caramel at an important time like this? Trifle though, if there was any trifle she’d have a bowl of that thanks!

Bit 13. The Goodbye Van.
Bit 14. Caramel on Toast.
Bit 15. The Final Dreaming.
Eulogy.

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