Twenty-two
‘Why are we building these new kennels out here in this paddock? When you have those ones near the nursery.’ In her overalls and hat, Mia squinted up at him in the most adorable way. It was a look that made Cap grin at her with admiration.
But if he kept staring at her, she’d think of him as a weird stalker or something. It didn’t stop him from taking sneaky glances in her direction every chance he got.
The freshly cemented floor was so white, where he cut the bindings from the roll of mesh wire. ‘This will be for the Maremmas. I plan to use this as a future training area for all guardian dogs and calves. Can you hold this wire up so I can attach it to the poles?’
‘Sure.’ Mia rarely said no, always keen to get her hands dirty. And she was such a tiny thing that he could easily secure the mesh to the poles above her head, while enjoying her summery aroma.
‘Can you explain the guardian dog process to me?’ She tucked her wind-tossed hair behind her ears, revealing more of her face and her delicate neck.
He licked his lips, imagining what her skin tasted like. ‘With any of the new guardians, I plan on keeping them inside the kennels to allow both the calves and dogs to get used to each other. Eventually they’ll move out with that group of calves to the larger paddocks, where they’ll live with the cattle until the next lot of calves arrive. Don’t stress, we’ll be feeding them at various watering points in the paddocks while they keep doing their job of deterring any dingoes.’ He didn’t want his brothers suggesting the use of dingo baits, not when he could use these guardian dogs and the wildlife corridors.
‘When will these dogs be ready for that?’
‘Not long. They’ve come from a cattle station that’s well skilled at bringing out their natural instincts. It’s the calves who need to get used to the dogs. But with their coats looking similar in colour, and the calves’ age, it should be a quick transition period.’ With one side of the kennel secure, they moved around to the rear of the simple shelter.
‘You said they came from another station. Didn’t the owner want them?’ Again, Mia held the mesh to the pole while he worked around her body, securing it in place. It was torture to not touch her, but it was also a pleasure to be this close.
‘They’re rescue dogs who go to this Western Australian station that works with this type of dog breed, the way I rescue cattle dogs. These guardian dogs came through various animal shelters. People like the fluffy bear look but can't deal with the reality of looking after dogs like this and end up surrendering them.’
‘Why would anyone want to surrender these gorgeous, fluffy animals?’ Mia reached down to pat the female resting on her chain, while the younger male, still in his juvenile stage, strained on his chain to demand a pat from Mia, who was smiling at the dogs, in a way he’d never tire of.
‘Unfortunately, they don't make very good pets, Mia.’ Didn’t that kill her smile.
‘But…’ Her brow rumpled with confusion, as she helped him shift the roll of mesh along to the last post.
‘Maremmas have a powerful instinct to guard livestock. It’s a trait that’s been bred into them for centuries. They originate from Italy, where they protected sheep from predators like wolves. It’s what makes them perfect for guarding livestock. But not so good with people.’ He nodded at the dogs calmly lying in the cool shade of the new kennels while watching the skittish calves in the paddock. ‘Unlike cattle dogs or most other dogs, guardian dogs are an independent animal, which is what they’re bred for, to not depend on humans, so you can’t bribe them with food, or expect them to behave in an apartment when they’re bred to live outside.’
‘I see. How often does this happen?’
‘My friend gets a new Maremma a month from city shelters. Sometimes she’ll drive across the country to rescue them. The usual return age is about eight months, when the owners struggle with that cute puppy, that suddenly weighs thirty kilos and is still growing. They eat like horses, and struggle to live in small backyards, and they can easily push over young children they’re trying to herd. Imagine having one of these in the house.’
‘It’d swallow up Bree’s couch.’
He chuckled as he unrolled the mesh across the kennel’s frame while in the shade of its simple roof.
‘Do they have names?’ Mia tenderly stroked the male dog’s nose.
‘You can pick one.’
Her head swivelled so fast to face him with wide eyes. ‘What?’
The attention made his heart slam into his chest. He had to look away from her too-bright, all-seeing gaze, to pluck the wire cutters from the toolbox. But when he raised his eyes, her ready gaze locked onto his, as if waiting for a response. ‘I think you should pick a name for the new dogs.’
‘Don’t they have names already?’
He shrugged. ‘Probably. But as they’re in their permanent home now, you get to give them a new name.’ Hopefully it would give Mia that feeling of being more connected to this place, because he wanted her to stay.
‘You didn’t give Willow a new name.’ Mia pointed to the parked Tojo where the dogs were lying beneath it, keeping their packs separated to give the new guardian dogs space.
‘Willow is not my dog.’ He winked at Mia, who playfully rolled her pretty eyes. ‘So, pick a name.’ He finished clasping the mesh to the kennel’s outer frame, tested the new doors, checked the water in the troughs they’d share with the calves, and left the door open. He wasn’t ready to lock them up, not while the sun was still shining.
‘I’ve never named a dog. What do you do?’
‘I usually go through a list of names to see which one they answer to. But I have been known to change their names based on their personality traits later on.’
‘So why did you pick Atlas?’
Cap turned to grin at his red cattle dog, the proud alpha flicking his ears at full attention. ‘For his endurance.’
‘As a cattle dog?’
‘And his will to survive. I found him on a track as a young pup. His paws were so worn down he must have been travelling for miles mapping out the territory. Even now, Atlas is a marathon running kind of dog. On a muster, Atlas will outlast the other dogs with his stamina.’
‘Was Atlas dumped?’
‘I think an eagle took him from his pack. It happens more than people realise when they let the puppies play on their lawns. When I found Atlas he had claw marks across his back. And you’ve seen how big those carrion birds are.’
‘They wouldn’t dare go near Atlas now.’ She pointed to the large cattle dog, who was not only loyal but fearless.
‘No. Atlas chases them away.’
‘What about Fern? Did you find her in a group of ferns in a damp woodland?’
‘No.’ He dumped his tools back into the box and snapped the lid shut. Collecting up the wire roll, he carried it back to the Tojo. Atlas thumped his tail to greet him and he gave him a pat.
‘Fern…’ She came towards him, and he patted both intelligent dogs.
‘What is Fern’s story?’ Mia followed him, as he refilled their water bottles from the cooler resting on the back of the ute and handed one to Mia.
‘Fern came to me via an animal shelter in Queensland. She was part of a working dog’s litter of six pups on a small cattle station.’ He looked over the landscape that surrounded him. A large newly fenced paddock that contained the future herd on his family’s cattle station. It was a dream come true.
‘But?’
‘Unfortunately, the station fell on hard times—from drought, mounting debts and dwindling resources. The owner had a stroke just before the pups were born, and he was sent to Brisbane for emergency care. He was there for a while, with his wife and daughter with him. Sadly, his daughter had no choice but to sell the property and move her parents into the city where her father could receive medical treatment. Unfortunately, during the move and the sale, some of the pups were abandoned.’
‘How could the owner do that?’ Her voice was loaded with protectiveness. Willow trotted over to lean against Mia’s leg for a soothing pat.
‘It wasn’t the owner’s fault; the poor bloke was stuck in hospital. He knew his dog was pregnant but had no clue how many pups there were in the litter. His wife and daughter did manage to find most of the dogs and give them new homes. But some of the puppies got away from them. It took the animal rescue group a few weeks to trap them. By then Fern was wary of humans.’
‘How long was she at the shelter?’
‘A month. Fern wouldn’t go near anyone. She’d been deserted once. Why would she go through that again?’ Even today he still felt honoured whenever Fern allowed him to pat her coat, and the smile she gave him as she sat by his leg, always eager to please. Fern was a highly intelligent dog with a strong work ethic, like Atlas. They were the perfect muster dog team.
‘It was you who named her Fern?’
He nodded. ‘Ferns symbolise new life and beginnings.’ And Fern had that with him, as he patted her sleek coat. Then he faced the one female he adored the most. Mia. ‘Now, it’s your turn to name the dogs.’
‘How?’
‘Take the male and walk him around the inner perimeter, let him get used to the boundary. He likes you.’ With Mia following him down to the guardian kennels, the dog chain clanked to the ground, as he clipped the young male onto a lead.
‘What do I do?’
‘Just take him for a walk. I’d like you to do a counterclockwise walk along the boundary fence, keeping the dog on your left so he can sniff out the territory. If he wants to pee, let him. He’s marking his turf, which will be a great deterrent for any dingoes. Go on, you’ve got this.’ He gently pushed Mia’s shoulder.
With their backs to Cap, it looked like a polar bear was being walked by a child. Chuckling to himself, he dragged out his phone to take a sneaky photo of the odd pair. It was going to be a keepsake that would always make him smile.
‘Don’t come back until you’ve given him a name.’ Of course, there was no pressure. He’d noticed Mia preferred operating towards a deadline in the conversations they’d shared when they worked together. It never felt like work when he was with Mia.
Leaning his shoulder against the new wall of the kennels, with the female Maremma shifting close enough for him to scratch her behind the ears, he settled in for the show. And Mia was worth the watch.