Spending three (3) months alone out on my Uncle’s farm after his death, I saw the best and worst of human behaviour as the property was cleared for sale. The farm was 20km from town and as things began disappearing (after strangers started coming out and going through sheds uninvited AND unannounced) I asked dad if I could borrow his beloved dog: Rumble.
It was the first time Rumble ever had a holiday and this is his story.
It was around the time that dad was eyeing off the B-Grade championship at his local golf club that my brother David turned up with a red cattle dog pup named Bundy. A few months later Bundy and dad were inseparable; Bundy learning to catch and collect golf balls as dad’s 5 iron hurled them into the gully below the house. Though he never did win that B-Grade championship Bundy has become rather well known on the local golf courses.
Years pass and dad, totally devoted to Bundy instigates some succession planning. Somehow he concocts a deal with a bloke he met somewhere in the vicinity of his small town golf club who owned a red girl dog (Bundy being a boy). The details though irrelevant to you my dear reader, were well discussed during the after match talk at the golf club.
Excitement builds for the litter until the bitch up and disappears. Dad is distraught. He had really come to love her.
Then late one evening Saturday after golf as one of dad’s mates is leaving the club car park, he spots something moving in the dark. A tiny pup just born.
“I bet that’s one of Bob Irvine’s pups!”
Phone calls are made, the vet notified, a clock procured along with milk formula and blankets, a box claimed and a tiny little red pup only hours old, no mother to be found, is being raised by an enthusiastic senior.
So how did he get the name Rumble? Well my mother thought he looked a bit like a fat little rum ball (he took to that formula I can tell you). But! One of my teetotaling sisters was mortifed at the thought of an innocent pup being named after strong liquor, so he was diluted to Rumble.
Rumble is six (6) years old now and returned home after his first holiday rather pleased with himself. Poor old Bundy struggles to get into the ute now when dad takes the dogs for their evening run.
So that’s the story of Rumble and Bundy. I’m not sure who dad loves the most. You’ll just have to ask him yourself.
PS: we had no more thefts at the farm after Rumble’s visit.
Here you go all you red dog enthusiasts: the last day of Rumble’s first and only holiday, including the joyous reunion between man and dog (puppy videos for cuteness toward the end). Really would someone watch all 13 of those videos? Maybe? After all I had to in order to edit upload them all.
And the last two are of Rumble’s father Bundy and the treasure of my dad.
© 2014 Melinda Irvine