My Grandfather is very ill. He has had cancer on and off for 10 years. This time will be the last time. He lives on a property in Bacchus Marsh with two houses on it. He and my Grandmother in one house, and my uncle in the other. He’s had a dog named Spud for the same amount of time he’s been battling cancer. Spud is a Maltese x Shih Tzu. Over the past year, Spud has dug out of the property three times. Quite costly when it comes to council fines, pound fees, etc. He’s also been playing up a bit. Never upsets the old man, just being a typical dog.
Three weeks ago, my uncle lost it. He took Spud, while my Grandfather slept, and surrendered him. The old man awoke, and has been distressed ever since. The two were inseparable. However, about a week ago, there was an ad on the front page of the Herald Sun, for a dog and a cat donning the names ‘Milo and Otis’. This attracted the attention of the old man, and in his current condition, it didn’t take long for the family to agree to try and get the pair.
They rang the pet shop. Due to there being some sob story on the advertisement about the dogs, there had been 800 applicants. My mother explained what had happened. The cancer, the close relationship with the dog – which was now gone. This was to no avail. The woman, who owns the pet shop in Woodend made mention of a Maltese she had for sale - $400. So they drove out there. The Maltese would never replace good ol’ Spuddy. But at least it was something.
They arrive. The dog looks exactly like Spud – what more could they ask for? In fact, the dog looks so much like Spud that they couldn’t help but query the pet shop owner. But no, his name was Frankie, and he was 2 years old. They drive home. Upon arrival back at Bacchus Marsh, Frankie is extremely pleased to see my Grandparents. And quite displeased to see my uncle.
No – it couldn’t be. What are the odds of Frankie, in fact, being Spuddy? My mother went through his paperwork... Frankie this, Frankie that... two years old... But – at the back of the pile of documents, a lone page from a vet check. It reads, “Spud – 10 years old”. And the microchip number matches.
Another trip back to Woodend, and the $400 was promptly refunded. A call into Woodend Police Station found that they had been trying to pin the woman for years, but that she’s very clever in covering her tracks; Buying dog after dog from countless pounds all around Victoria, and selling them to unsuspecting buyers with incorrect information (and an exorbitant price rise to boot). The shop was closed in December, to be reopened shortly after. This time, it will close for good.
Now, I’m not a religious person. But I can’t help but feel that something very special had occurred in Spud being returned to my Grandfather. What are the odds, out of all the pet shops, out of all the dogs, that the one they drive an hour to buy happens to be the very one that was missing?
I found this all out on my way home from PTC, when I dropped my brother home to our folks.