Free Red Dog by Louis De Bernières

is, I’m going to have to keep him for quite a while, and this clinic isn’t even finished. I haven’t had the cages put in yet. Can you keep him under lock and key until I get the results?’
    ‘No worries,’ said Don.
    Later on the vet made a slide of a tiny sample of Red Dog’s blood, and placed it under the microscope. He was having a campaign against heartworm, and he found the whole business of detecting it and then getting rid of it to be quite exciting. It was a well-known problem further north, but in this region he was something of a pioneer, and it was proving to be more widespread than anyone had suspected. He adjusted the focus with the knurled wheel, and there, sure enough, were dozens of the heartworm microfilaria swimming about in Red Dog’s blood. ‘Gotcha,’ he said.
    The vet did not particularly want to have Red Dog living with him whilst he underwent treatment, because it was bad idea to have him biting his other customers.He also realised that Don would be unable to keep Red Dog confined, because he would escape at the first opportunity, and that would spoil the effectiveness of the treatment. Then he had a brainwave, and he rang the ranger.
    The ranger was responsible for rounding up stray dogs and keeping them in a pen until their owners came to collect them.
    ‘Right, mate,’ said the ranger, when the vet had told him what he wanted, ‘but, you see, Red Dog isn’t really a stray, is he? He’s a sort of professional traveller.’
    ‘But he doesn’t belong to anyone, so he must be a stray.’
    ‘I see your point, but I can only hold dogs in the pound until the owner comes for them, and then they have to pay for the upkeep. So who’s going to pay for Red Dog?’
    The vet was slightly shocked; ‘Red Dog doesn’t have to pay! Red Dog’s in common.’
    There was a pause at the other end of the line, and then the ranger sighed. ‘Well, I dare say,’ he said, ‘I can keep him in the pound while you do the treatment. I can’t say I’m happy about it, ’cause the budget’s tight enough as it is, but since it’s Red Dog we’re talking about …’
    So it was that Red Dog was confined to the dog-pound with the stray dogs of Roebourne Shire, and funnily enough, he seemed quite happy about it. He appeared to know that whereas the other dogs werehumble captives, he was an honoured guest, and so he shamelessly lorded it over the other dogs, keeping them in their place and being firm with them if ever they got out of line. For the time being he gave up his yearning for constant travel, and relaxed as if he were on holiday. He was so good that he even went out with the ranger to look for strays, sitting up in the front seat of the ranger’s yellow ute, whilst the strays were tied up in the back. In the meantime he submitted to all the tests and injections as if he were good-naturedly humouring the vet.
    Back at the single men’s quarters of Dampier Salt, Don told the others about how Red Dog was confined to the pound whilst he was being treated. Someone from Dampier Salt told someone else that Red Dog was in the pound, and then someone told Vanno at Hamersley Iron.
    Peeto, Vanno and Jocko were horrified. ‘Jeez,’ said Peeto, ‘ain’t that where they kill the strays?’
    ‘Only if they can’t find the owner,’ said Jocko.
    ‘Red Dog, he ain’t got an owner,’ said Peeto. ‘Only Red Dog owns Red Dog.’
    ‘They wouldn’t put down Red Dog,’ said Vanno.
    ‘The world’s full of people who’d put down Red Dog,’ said Peeto. ‘The world’s a bad place, and it’s only getting badder.’
    The men thought about it for a while, and before long their anger and concern got the better of them. ‘There’s only one thing to do,’ said Jocko at last.

    That night, at two in the morning, the three men drove to Roebourne. Outside the ranger’s pound they put on gloves, and Vanno took a large pair of boltcutters from the boot of the car. They were three foot long, capable of cutting