DAKKA
MY BEST FRIEND Ooh, you make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me, I've got you to help me forgive, Oooh, you make me live, my Dakka, Your the best friend that I ever had, I know I'll never be lonely - you're the only one and I really love the things that you do, Your my best friend. Queen
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PUPPY LOVE I'd been in Queensland for about a week, and when I arrived home, everyone was out. I opened the door to the garage, out bounded the two dobermans, and then a little blue/black ball of fluff promptly latched onto the cuff of my jeans and would not let go. Hello Jaws, I said. He was such a cute puppy. While I walked around the backyard, he was still hanging onto my jeans. It was love at first sight. For both of us. This puppy was a cattle cross kelpie, and it turned out he belonged to Jive, one of the many people sharing a big house in suburbia. Puppy was later named "DAKKA" at a naming ceremony. He was 8 weeks old. MISSING One afternoon when Jive arrived home from work, little Dakka was missing. He searched everywhere, and went door knocking at the neighbours. No-one had seen him. A few weeks later someone came to the door, and asked had we lost a cattle pup. Of course we had. It seems that on that day while everyone was at work, the dobermans managed to get through the fence, and went along a busy main street. Little Dakka followed, but not having the size and strength of the dobermans was run over. This neighbour was about to reverse out of his driveway to play a game of golf with his mate, when he saw the accident. The driver of the car didn't even stop. The neighbour ran to the aid of the little dog, put him in his car and promptly rang his mate, who happened to be a vet, to meet him at the surgery instead of playing golf. They saved Dakka's life, and I am forever grateful. Poor Dakka, he was smashed up badly, and had pins and plates in both back legs and hips. When Jive finally brought him home from the vets, he couldn't walk. It was just at this time that I was quite ill myself, and so Dakka and I recovered together. Everyday I would take him out into the sunshine where we would soak up the warmth and energy of the sun. It was winter now, and Dakka was 6 months old. He got stronger everyday, and eventually the metal was removed from his body. His legs grew stronger, and he grew bigger. In September of that year, I moved away. I missed Dakka very much, but he was not mine, he belonged to Jive. A month later, Jive was dead. Killed in a tragic road accident. I remember going to the house to tell the others who would be expecting him home. All I could do was find Dakka, hold him and cry. "What's going to happen to you - your master is never coming home again." At this time, Jive's fiance took Dakka to live with her. But it didn't work out with her family. So by Christmas, Dakka was mine. He was 11 months.
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THE RASCAL! Dakka used to love rounding up the school children, make them cross the road, walk them past a few houses, then cross them back over again. This was such a funny sight to see, I thought that he thought maybe they were cows, the children wearing short white socks and black school shoes. I had to put a stop to it though, there could have been an accident. One afternoon I went to Dural to visit some friends who lived on a small acreage. I naturally took Dakka with me. They had cows. Real cows! Dakka was so excited! He bunched them up and worked them up and down the paddock, first along one side of the fence, then down again. This went on for an hour and a half. The poor cows were exhausted. Dakka was just beginning to enjoy himself. We called him off. His natural instinct to herd and move cattle must have taken over - he was a cattle dog after all! It was a hot and humid summer morning, there had been a light rain over night. I wore a white cotton skirt and blouse, to keep cool. I got into my car to go to work, but Dakka had other ideas. He jumped in through the open driver side window, and hence I had muddy paw prints all over my clothes! Needless to say, I was late to work that morning. After being out one evening, and having left Dakka in the house, I returned to find that my very best black leather stilettos had been chewed to shreds by guess who. After that, I made sure I locked my bedroom door, and all shoes were safe in there. Which reminds me of Dakka's other shoe fetish. I would often come home from work to find odd shoes and thongs on the front verandah. Dakka had gone walkabout, and bought home souvenirs of his visits. This led to him having to be tied up while I was at work, and also to a sign on the front fence letting people know that if they had lost one shoe or thong, it was probably here. I had a great response to that! I moved again, to my mother's home. She has a large yard surrounded by a high fence. I didn't need to tie Dakka up whilst I was away. Or so I thought! I came home from work one day to find a small collection of teddy bears, dolls, and other soft toys. He had been able to jump the fence, and once again went walkabout. At least it made a change from shoes and thongs! RECLAIMED Out of the blue, Phil, a friend of Jive's turned up demanding he have the dog, as he was Jive's best friend. He took Dakka away to live with him. I found out where, and drove down to a small terrace in an inner city suburb. The backyard was so tiny. And all concrete. No grass, no trees, nothing. I talked to the owner of the terrace, and he could see the love in Dakka's eyes when he saw me. We were about to leave, when Phil turned up. I had to leave alone. The next weekend I drove down again. There was nobody home. Good. Dakka was in the backyard. Even better. A laneway ran behind the fence, so I went up there and kept on calling Dakka until he finally scrambled over the extremely high fence. At last! I put him into my car and drove away. No-one would ever separate us again. Never! |
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MORE ANTICS We moved. Out west. Far away from suburbia. I had rented a house that sat in the middle of about 40 acres. An old dairy farm. There were only a half dozen milkers left. Somehow we managed to get Dakka to help bring the cows up, but only occasionally. The cows would come by themselves anyway! Dakka loved to run around the paddocks. Freedom! Behind the property was a lagoon. Dakka would often on hot days swim out to the little hill that became an island. He would lie there and sun himself, recover his breath, and swim back again to the shore. Whenever I rode my trusty bicycle, Dakka would be there, running by my side, investigating the sights and sounds of a small country town, getting to know the local dogs. Unfortunately I had to move again. I wanted to stay in the area, so found a tiny cottage on 5 acres. It was perfect. Two dams, a running creek, lots of natural bushland, and it came with 2 horses. By now Dakka was 2yrs and 8 months. I went horse riding regularly, and Dakka and I had so many adventures together, as he always came along. As soon as I got the saddle out, Dakka would start shouting with joy. Yapping madly and running around, he loved to come out. I would often ride for 6 hours at a time, so took saddle bags with supplies for myself, Dakka and the horse, Jedda. On warmer days, Dakka would make a bee-line from one dam to another, all in different properties, or go through the creek rather than the track or road. One afternoon there was a great deal of barking from Dakka. On going outside, he had cornered a neighbours cat. I called him off, the cat took the opportunity to run up a nearby tree. It sat on a branch, looking quite pleased with its masterful escape, until it turned around, that is. Dakka had proceeded to follow it up the tree, and was about to get onto the same branch. I was laughing so much, my sides hurt! The poor cat! It was so startled. It went up to a higher branch. Safe at last. No-one had ever told Dakka that dogs can't climb trees! He turned around and run/jumped back to earth. I would often take Dakka in the 4 wheel drive when I went into town to shop. On one occasion, I did the grocery shopping, put the bags of supplies in the back, and continued with some other shopping. I wasn't gone long, maybe half an hour. I opened the back to put my purchases in, and here was Dakka, covered in butter! He had "found" the grocery bag with the dairy products in, and had a wonderful feast! One evening I had gone into town to attend a class. I left Dakka in the back of the 4 wheel drive, as usual. I was gone for about two hours. I came back and you guessed it, no Dakka. He had somehow managed to undo the zip of the canvas flap at the rear of the vehicle, and had squeezed his way out. Well, I had the whole class out looking for my dog. About half an hour later, after much calling, and others driving around the town, he sauntered back. I was so pleased to see him, although justifiably distressed. After that incident, I tied him up in the back of the vehicle whenever I had to leave it. OFF TO WORK WE GO Some mornings, Dakka would "disappear" right before I was about to leave for work. Usually he would come running back upon hearing my strange whistle, but sometimes not. Driving up the dirt road to the sealed one, there would be Dakka, running along bedside me. He hated to be left on his own. During the days, he would visit his lady dog friends, and their human families, he was well loved by all. Whenever I worked the weekends, Dakka would come with me. He would help me do the computer backups, and protect me from the security guards! He could hear their keys clanging sometimes 20 minutes before I did, and would start to bark ferociously, thus scaring the daylight out of the security people. They were expecting to find a huge, savage dog, ready to attack. They would have their truncheons and hand guns at the ready, come storming into my office, only to find a medium sized dog under my table.
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ON THE MOVE AGAIN It is now 1988, Dakka is eight years old. We move back to the big smoke, to a lovely house with a large backyard. The first thing to do is find a new vet, and upon high recommendation’s, Max became our chosen one. Dakka loved his new home, and quickly became acquainted with the local parks, beaches and the neighbourhood in general. He could easily get out, so new fencing was high priority! He loved to chase his yellow ball around the back garden, which lead him to catching his dew claw one day, and had to have it surgically removed. He also developed haematomas on both his ears. From bouncing the ball around, so that was three more operations. His favourite game was to jump up at a balloon tied to the gum tree in the back garden – that would keep him amused for hours!.
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GOOD BYE, MY FRIEND I was working with a client on their premises. The mornings work had gone well and was almost completed. About 11.45 am, I started to shake and feel sick, for no apparent reason. I knew something was very wrong. And I needed to go home. At 12.15 pm I received a call from home, Dakka was breathing funny. I knew immediately he was having a heart attack, and would not live. I gave instructions to ring the vet, and tell him that we are on our way with Dakka. Ian rang Max, gave him the details, and followed instructions given to him. I left where I was and with tears streaming down my face, fell down in the street and damaged both my knees. I didn't feel a thing. I drove home with blood running from my wounds down my legs. The moment I saw Dakka, I knew it was too late. His tongue was blue, his eyes glazed over. All I could do was hold him and tell him how very much I loved him, and to please don't die, don't leave me now. He was panting, then no breath at all, then he'd struggle to keep breathing. He didn't want to leave me, I knew it. Ian told me of the events that occurred. He was having his lunch, and as always, gave a small slice of cheese to both Kotty and Dakka. Ian was to go out, and so steered Dakka outside to do his toilet. He heard a crash, and looked out to see that Dakka had fallen down on the back pathway, knocking his water dish and pot plants over. He went out to assist Dakka, and Dakka got up and proceeded to walk into the conservatory. He fell down again. This is when Ian rang me, and consequently the vet. Max advised Ian to keep Dakka warm and still. He was having massive coronary attacks. He had already just suffered two. Poor Dakka was loosing control of his bodily functions. He somehow managed again to get up, and get into the dining room, where he suffered his third heart attack. This is when I arrived home. Ian rang Max again. And again. Dakka was struggling for breath, fighting to live. He had tried so hard to keep getting up, to come inside. He was probably trying to make it to the lounge room, to his bean bag, or perhaps the lounge itself. Finally, the last gasps for air. The sounds I will never forget. Even as I write, the tears are streaming down my face, I can hardly see what I am doing. I was hysterical at the time. And in deep shock. Dakka was dead. His tongue was cold and blue. His eyes were lifeless. No pulse, no heartbeat, no breath. Gone. Just like that. I screamed "NO". It just could not be happening. It was 1.20pm July 7th, 1993. Dakka was 13½ years old. My Best Friend. On my insistence, Ian once again rang Max, informed him Dakka was gone, but I wanted him to come down. Max arrived shortly, stethoscope in hand. He checked for any vital signs. There were none. Dakka really was dead. Max reminded me that I was lucky to have Dakka for as long as I did - he had been diagnosed with endocarditis about a year previously, and was only expected to live a few weeks. So I did have an extra year with him, but losing him was not any easier to take with that knowledge.
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ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST Ian then had the task of digging a grave for Dakka. We had previously decided that he would be buried in the back garden, underneath the gum tree, by the birdbath. I was torn between being with Ian, and staying with Dakka. I didn't really know what to do. I took the grey jumper/coat that Dakka was wearing off him. I wanted to keep that with me. It smelt like Dakka. I wrapped his yellow sheet around him, and put his old blue coat that I had made him years ago under his head. I decided to leave his quartz crystal that he had worn for some time, around his neck. The grave was deep. Six foot. It was such a long way down. We managed to lift Dakka onto some board, and carried him out to the grave. He was very heavy, and rigor mortis seemed to have already set in. His body was so cold and hard. I snipped off some of his coat, I knew he wouldn't mind. Slowly, we lowered him down into the grave. He was wrapped in his sheet, and his head supported by his old coat. I put his teddy with him, he loved to play with it so much, and his favourite chew bone, too. We read some verse out of my old Prayer Book, although at this time I was so angry that God (if there really was one at all - I seriously doubted it at this time), could let my dog die at all. I threw a handful of soil onto his body in the grave. Ian did too. Covering him with the earth, a shovel full at a time, was one of the hardest things Ian has ever had to do. I just cried the whole time. It was 5.30 pm in the evening, cold and dark. I stayed outside by his grave until very late. I could not leave him. Not outside in the cold and dark. I had smoothed over the surface with my hands, and lined the perimeter with stones. I lit a candle for him. I left the outside lights on for him. I cried for a week. I was exhausted. Every night at 5.30 I would light another candle and put it on his grave. I kept the outside lights on all night. I continued to do this for about a month. I didn't want to do anything, I was lost. My life had a huge whole in it that Dakka used to fill. I was absolutely devastated. My health began to suffer. It seemed my whole world was falling apart. I was in a car accident about ten days after the death of Dakka. A week after that, my PC blew up. I felt my life was over. Deeply depressed and lost. I felt this way for 6 months. I sought counselling. It helped a great deal. My grieving for Dakka was a long way from over. I felt it never would be. I love him. I wanted him back.
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IN LOVING MEMORY It is now a year since Dakka died. I made his grave into a garden. There are 13½ stocks growing, about to flower. I have a solid brass plaque for him. I will have a memorial service for him at 1.30pm July 7th 1994, when I will, with Ian's help, put the plaque onto his grave. I miss him dearly, and still cry a lot. I still want him back, even though I now have an eleven week old blue cattle dog cross puppy, called "BROK". He reminds me in many ways of Dakka, and that always starts the tears flowing. I often wonder if reincarnation happens, and if the soul of Dakka is in Brok. Then I dismiss the thought, knowing that Dakka would be in heaven, that his life on this earth was complete in every way. Dogs must go to heaven, you see, otherwise it would not be heaven at all, would it? Every time I see your face, it reminds me of the places we used to go - Now all I have is a photograph, and I realise you're not coming back anymore. - Ringo Starr
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