A dog’s tail …

by Paul Campbell

We rilly live in a land of plenty

“Dunno about you Dog, but I reckin this self-isolation thingy is a bit ofa lark reelly.”

Gidday readas, Boss an’ me was loading up the ute, hookin’ on tha boat, an’ his gerlfren’ Sharlene was makin’ scones an’ chikkin saniches. Boss hada chili bin with bears an wine too. We was headin’ off ta tha boat ramp at Pahi, for a day ona harbour.

“Lissin, deah,” sed Sharlene ina mornin’. “That pry minister Jacindy says ‘cos yer over 70, ya gotta stay inside tha house. But they can’t stop yer going out ona boat, cos yer not rubbin shoulders with anyone else, sept me an Billy. So lets go an catch sum snappa eh?”

Well readas, Boss jumped atta chance an’ we was soon out ona water. As usuil I curled up ona cushin ina cabin, wile Boss an’ Sharlene caught sum snappas, and had bear an’ wine. Wen they hada few fish ina spare chili bin, they stopped for a bite. I gotta half a scone. Yum.

Wile they stopped fishin, Sharlene askt boss wot he reckined about that thing called crony virus.

“Well deah,” seda Boss. “Been a bit blimmin strange all them peeple buying alla dunny rolls atta supermarkit. An I see our mate hadta cancil his holiday cruise, and your Mum got no visitors in her rest home. I reckin she cood come an stay ona farm eh?” I was surprised by that readas, ‘cos Boss not all that chummy with Sharlene’s Mum. But he said, “we gotta help out with the crony virus eh.“ An Sharlene give him a sloppy kiss ona cheek. Yuk.

“Well, one thing about it deah,” she sed. “We gotta full freezer ina woolshed ana bin fulla kumera, we gotta full frige ina kitchen, we gotta lotta lamb an’ beef ina paddicks, and chooks an’ eggs, and brocly and siller beet ina garden. An, here we are wiv’ a quota of snappa nearly. I don’t reckin we gonna starve ina Kaipra are we?”

“Yer got that rite, deah,” seda Boss. “Plenty of tucker fer the Dog too, cos he eats pritty high ona hog with scones, and ‘corse, chop bones an’ even pork cracklin ter mix wiv’ his Tux. We will be fine evin if we gotta be in isolation.”

Well readas, we headed home wiva bin fulla fish, an boss whistlin’ a tune.

Then he said: “Betta pull in ata pub, get sum supplies.” But we found tha car park was desertid ana curtains, closed ana doors to. The pub was shut.

Boss banged his fist ona steerin’ wheel. So Sharlene giv him a pat ona sholda.

“There, there deah. The supermarkets gotta stay open, cos tha guvmint says.

Lets just not panick. An rememba we gotta a home brew kit ina cupboard.

Time to get a brew underway.”

Yep readas. No need ter panick. We live ina good wee country eh?

Cheers all, Billy