A few weeks back, while reporting on my sabbatical journey, I mentioned that I had started writing short stories. Stories based (loosely) on some of my family members escapades….so here’s one…

A man and his dog

I know this bloke. He loves dogs, and the bigger the dog the better the dog. He’s owned a few over the years; Sue, Cruz, Sounder, Ice, and Pepsi were all pig dogs. But the long standing member of the family is Munta, a purebred mongrel. Following the aspirations of the owner, Munta grew – big! He’s had a colourful life has Munta – being run over by the quad – surviving an intake of slug bait – possum hunting with his cousin Sam (a short legged Lab x) – and dodging the local pig farmer, who was “raged out” about Munta’s frequent visits to his farrowing swine. Apart from his appearance being intimidating, due to his size, Munta has always been a jovial loveable character.

The family moved, and came to town. Munta was happy. Most of the time he hung around the house, played with the kids, and generally behaved. And…on the odd occasion Munta decided to wander through the neighbourhood, just to see what was to be seen.

On this particular walkabout Munta saw, and coveted, what was not his. The moral implications did not deter him in any way. What Munta wanted, Munta got. What Munta saw, Munta took – and he arrived home with a huge, half defrosted, pork leg roast, still with some of its plastic skin draped unceremoniously around it.

The non-pig-dog, had gone on a successful hunting expedition.  His owner also saw, and coveted, and not knowing where Munta had claimed this leg of pork from, decided he was himself freed from moral implication, and, more importantly, that a large pork roast was too good to waste.

So, after a quick wash-down with the outside tap the prize was taken into the kitchen, where it was whacked into the oven – roasted alongside pumpkin, potato and kumara – and devoured with apple sauce and gravy by the thankful family.

Good boy Munta!