So I go to call the dogs in before I head into town, and Honey turns up but there's no sign of Red Dog. I get in the Landcruiser and take a slow drive around the racecourse buildings, worried that he's bothering someone's horses or has been bitten by a snake, but when I turn the corner into Ken's horse camp this enormous overexcited pack of dogs of every description comes heffalumping and barking towards me from the caravans - huge mastiffs, a Yorkie, a terrier, a tiny thing that looks like a bath mat, and...Red Dog. Ken and his horse buddies have got something like 9 dogs with them, and Red Dog had decided to join the pack.
I first met Ken last year, shaving outdoors with his electric razor connected to his portable generator, so we had a bit of a chat and I met his horse wranglers, Ray, Keith and Franz. I didn't bother trying to find out all the dogs' names, because there seemed to be more and more of them everywhere I looked, and when I called Red Dog over they all tried to get in the car. It was hysterical. Red Dog was having so much fun with the big dogs (and being fed freshly shot kangaroo meat) that I let him stay for the day. He finally came home in the late afternoon, hurled himself into the roo pond to cool off, then went and passed out on his bed. I just hope the eleventeen dogs from Ken's camp don't decide to move in! Smokey has retired to the roof, just in case.
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