KIRRA …A Dog Destroyed To Satisfy Vanity.


When there’s a bit of spare in the pocket, I feel good to drop-off a few tins of tucker, or a big bag even, of dog bikkies at the local Animal Welfare shop.

The few physical remembrances of a dead canine mate aren’t all that fewer than that of a human friend. Her manilla envelope read: Kirra Killed: Friday, March 11, 2005.

I visited a place fairly regularly in Greenbank to assist them in various ways. The principals obtained a dog for image sake. They were far too self-centered to be pet-centric, but obtained a pup because such an accoutrement would compliment their business. Over time I became disenchanted with the purely rip-off, cynical and deceptive nature of their goings-on and a fall-out was impending. Its happening was triggered by the disappearance and most certainly, by the putting-down of Kirra, a U.N. mixture but predominantly Alsatian.

Over the four years or so of her life, we became firm mates and we yapped a fair bit. She gave me the attentive and classic quizzical head inclines as she gazed at me. I may well be saying “rabbits” over and over, but the nuances pleased her and genuine dog people know what I’m on about. She would pelt out to greet me while the house residents always upbraided this display of affection and dedication and shooed her away .

A day much like today Friday 11, early autumn and pleasant, was the last time I saw Kirra six years ago. I had been chatting with the cleaner whose dog enjoyed a run with Kirra. She stopped by me every few minutes for a pat and a bit of bullshit. I couldn’t pull myself away from that scene in the back yard. A profound sense that I would never again see her swamped me and I lingered for hours longer than usual before reluctantly driving away, the foreboding heavy with me.

Next morning, the then lady of the house bustled over asking if I had seen Kirra. An obvious pretend show of interest given that I had just driven in. The concern of an utterly false person. She blamed the previous night’s firework noise from the nearby Greenbank country show for Kirra’s disappearance. I saw this as crap and continue to see it as a sham. She was the epitome of self-interest, shagging a tennis name while hubby developed an interest in a Chinese comfort lady during his regular visits to that country. I’m not here to moralize, but every little bit helps.

There’s heaps of pages on this part of my life but a quick anecdote on her pretentious best:

Claimed she and girl-friend wanted a dose of culture. Told her AIDA was at QE2 stadium in all its desert sand and actual elephant glory that night. ” Really don’t think so,” she sniffed,” Too far from the action, we’ll never hear a word.”

Bye for now, Les.
Pet Cemetery And Crematorium.


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