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Chapter 4 is here! This week we go shark fishing, swim in crocodile infested waters, ponder the pros and cons of different dog breeds, and seek out home protection help after our first house in Australia is broken into and ransacked. Police had one safe piece of advice for us on how to deal with these types of criminals in the future...

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Chapter 4 - The Breeder

I’m sitting on the couch. It’s been a long day and I’ve crushed it. I mean challenge after challenge has come my way and I knocked them down like Chris Brown on so many first dates. I even stuck to my nutrition plan and ate only what I had planned to eat that day. No second helpings, no cookies, I crushed it. But there they are. A bag of kettle cut, crispy as you like, lightly salted potato chips. I’ve done so well, I can’t give in now. But I’ve done so well, surely I deserve a reward. Like a sign from the heavens, my TV show throws to commercial and I hear a perfectly cast ethnically ambiguous and non-offensive actor say “Go on, you deserve it” straight to camera. Straight to me. The sign I needed from the universe to open that bag and indulge.

Get a dog.

The words from that police officer echoed in my head. Do the thing I have wanted to do my entire life? I mean, say less. First, we needed a place to live and so we landed at 9A Musgrave Place and it would prove to be our perfect home abroad. It was a Queenslander style house where the main living portion of the house is built well off the ground to allow for floodwaters to pass safely underneath. We were at the end of a dead-end street with a school sports field after our house and a cemetery across the road. Most importantly, it was dog friendly. Originally we had planned to get a dog as a joint-Christmas present to each other that first year in Australia and it was time to get to work.

The first thing we needed to do was find ourselves some breeders and get on some waiting lists. 

Our first foray took us to a breeder just outside of Halifax, a town about an hour and a half north of Townsville. There we met an Italian couple who owned a large property next to a sugar cane farm. Practically all of the sugar cane grown in Australia comes from Queensland so these types of farms were prolific throughout the state. They are also the source of one of my favourite pieces of ridiculous Australian trivia: the origin of the cane toad. 

Cane toads, as any dog owner in Australia will tell you, are a pain in the ass. These toads are super easy for dogs to catch and eat. Fun! But they are also very poisonous. Not fun. That’s not the interesting part. The interesting part is that they are not native to Australia. They were introduced back in the 30s as a measure to eliminate cane beetles that were decimating sugar cane crops. Bring in the toads, they eat all the beetles, we all get more sugar (and rum!), and everyone’s happy. Great idea, right? Except for one teeny tiny problem. 

Cane beetles live at the top of the sugar cane and cane toads all live at the bottom. 

Cane toads went on to eat anything and everything in their path except for cane beetles. And because these fat bastards were sporting poisonous goo-sacks on their backs, none of Australia’s massive roster of death dealers were able to impede their spread. The end result is that they are everywhere and one of the most universally hated species on the continent. You can do pretty much anything to a cane toad in Australia and, so long as it ends up dead, no one will bat an eye. 

Back on the cane farm we made pleasantries with the couple and chatted about the area for a few minutes before the husband finally led us to the back of the house. There we saw two German Shepherds playing in a fenced portion of their yard. We started walking that way before realising that that wasn’t where he was taking us. Instead, he lead us to what looked like a giant tool shed. Inside we could see that the shed was divided into a number of pens and in each of the pens were 3 to 5 dogs. 

He toured us around and we leaned over to pat the dogs inside who varied from thrilled to see us to completely apathetic. The dogs looked fine. The guy was fine. I suppose the pens were fine. Everything was fine. 

It just wasn’t what I had expected. 

We continued the tour to the side of the house where another group of dogs were penned up in another enclosure and then we looped back to the first yard where those two original dogs were still playing. The dogs looked lovely, there was absolutely nothing wrong with them and they seemed quite content. He told us that the male was their oldest dog and he ran the show. The smaller dog was their female who he told us was their pride and joy. “The best bitch in the country!” were his exact words. As he sang their praises to us the male shepherd seemingly got bored of wrestling and made himself busy by digging a big hole. 

We stayed for tea and got on their waiting list, that was what we were there for afterall. I was trying to sort out my feelings on things and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why this didn’t feel right. As we made small talk over tea I began to have doubts – what if this was as good as it got? There’s no cruelty here. These are good people. The dogs look nice enough. What if this was just how it was? 

When the tea was finished we politely excused ourselves and he walked us back out through their yard to the car. As we passed the two original dogs we saw the male Shepherd busy in his hole, which was now almost twice as deep. He was alternating between pawing at the side of the hole and actually getting his mouth in there and chewing on the rocks. The breeder laughed and said “There he goes eating dirt again!”. 

We drove away in silence. 

Back at home we talked about the day and I was relieved to hear that Danielle shared my doubts that perhaps that was as good as it got. We didn’t talk about it much after that and I began to feel foolish for building this up in my head for so long. Of course you’re not going to have some magical, fairy tale experience. I had 25 years to set my expectations for this and now there was no way for reality to measure up. We wouldn’t give up, this was still what we wanted to do, but there was a feeling of loss all of the sudden. 

Then, in February 2009, we paid our first visit to the aptly named Lynda Friend. 

Despite our first breeder visit not being what we had envisioned, we hadn’t given up altogether. We got in touch with Lynda as soon as we heard that she had a breeding program and that she was located just outside of Townsville. She spoke to me on the phone for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t help but smile when I talked to her – she just had one of those infectiously passionate personalities. She was a wealth of information. Once you got her talking on a subject she wouldn’t stop until you were stuffed – like a doting mother at Thanksgiving making sure that you wouldn’t leave until you had to undo a button. 

Lynda invited us out to her kennels where she boards dogs and breeds her own. She greeted us at the gates and I found that familiar smile on my face right away. She was even lovelier in person. Her place was beautiful. Everything was clean, the lawns were all mowed, everything was in good repair and everything seemed very presentable. There was an obvious pride in ownership here. 

As she toured us through the property and talked about her dogs and her work it was immediately obvious that this was a labour of love for her. I’m sure there are financial goals, that this is a business as well, but at the root of it all you could just tell that she did this because it’s what she loved to do.

She first introduced us to her females and puppies. Danielle and I were herded into one yard and then Lynda released the dogs in with us. They came out like a wave, each one pining for our attention and pats. They were gorgeous: alert,  attentive, and friendly. They were everything we wanted them to be. By the time you started to get a feel for one she would bound off to be replaced by a new eager muzzle. We played with them for a few minutes, trying to listen to Lynda at the same time with little success. Laughing and being completely overwhelmed with it all. Then Lynda asked if we wanted to see the boys. 

Oh yes. Yes please. 

Putting the females and puppies away, she then went over and unlocked the gate to the boys’ yard. She went to open the latch and then paused as if a thought had just occurred to her.

“Brace yourselves.” she said over her shoulder. I smiled back at what I thought was a joke. 

Lynda opened the gate and a giant mass of black and gold fur exploded towards us. I felt my confidence slip, my mouth went a bit dry and I put one leg behind me to brace myself as one dog locked eyes with me and came barging forwards. He arrived without slowing down and knocked me straight back into the fence. Before I could react, I was covered in dogs. With a borderline maniacal laugh and my arms stretched out in front of me to repel the onslaught of fur and saliva, I looked over at Danielle. 

It was one of those real-life slow motion moments. She was laughing and trying, quite unsuccessfully, to defend herself from a giant pink tongue attached to a huge dog. Time slowed. Her ponytail was half in and half out, sweat beaded on her forehead from the hot sun and the exertion of repelling this wave of affection. 

She looked beautiful in that moment – completely at home with this giant beast jumping all over her. Her hands deep in his fur, her smile growing by the second. It was a moment of real knowing. I knew how much I loved this person. I knew that this moment was meant to be. I knew that this spot on this day with these dogs was where we were meant to be. Through tufts of soft fur we locked eyes and I saw an expression on her face that I knew was mirrored on my own: joy. 

We had found our breeder.