Good yarn this one.

Good yarn this one kind of reminds me of a dog I had once. cheers

Dogs,

We had weeks and weeks-of "Does the Dingo Cross? "With your permission I will branch out into a new subject and from you various readers get their appreciation of our best friend, the dog. Here is my experience of one.
On one of the mills my surveyor had a dog-certainly not pure bred "but no dingo." He used to follow his master out to work each morning and during the day amuse himself chasing rabbits, but at knock-off. time he was always ready to call it a day. One evening coming home the surveyor was bringing back his theodolite and by some means the telescope fell off. The dog, being 100 yards behind came upon this, evidently said to himself. "Hello, my boss has dropped part of his gear. I had better ;bring it home." Being then over a mile from camp he came in two minutes after his boss and laid the telescope at his feet.
Sitting around the camp fire (this being a new mill site and in course of construction) one night four or five of us were enjoying the fire. One of the party was in his tent and presumably trying to sing. The dog's boss gave him a piece of string and told him to take it to the singer. Off he trotted and was not satisfied till the string was taken from him by the Peter Dawson.
Eventually this dog came into my pos-session owing to the death of the surveyor. X always had a cow or two on the mills and supplied milk to those with families who required it. My youngest boy used to take the milk to them in a billy when he was going to school, taking the dog with him. After delivering the milk he would give the empty billy to the dog, who knew his job was to take it home and deliver it to the wife.
Several times he met foes on the way. He would put down the billy, polish off his enemies, pick up the billy and make for home. One . morning when he arrived at the house no one was there, the wife evidently passing, the time of day or talking of fashions to a neighbour. I can imagine my pal saying, "What the devil and I going to do now with this billy? Well, IH put it In v. safe place." He went into the house and put it under our bed. Next morning. Where is the billy? I do not know. My boy did not know and said he had given it as usual to the dog.
Dog, where is the billy? What did you do with it yesterday?" Off he trotted inside and brought it out. Who says dogs have not reasoning powers?
Leaving the mill I became one of the unfortunate farming class, but a mill line ran through the property and the guard used to bring up my daily paper. As soon as the train was heard, off trotted my pal, picked up the paper and brought it to me. Many of my old mill hands will remember this dog who could do everything but talk.

I hope to meet him some day at Peter's side, holding out to me the key of the Pearly Gates.

JARRAH JERKER.

Western Mail
 December 1940
http://newspapers.nla.gov.au/