What a Dingo!

[embedyt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghCTZF61ey0[/embedyt]Marquel was studying how to become a 7th Day Adventist when he watched this Times Video:  Vindication at Last for a Woman Scorned by Australia’s News Outlets and he stopped. Lindy Chamberlain of Australia said that a dingo had entered a tent where her baby lay, and made off with it, but it took 30 years for her to get vindication and closure. Marquel read the story with fascination. Nobody in Australia believed her and both she and her husband were accused of murder. Marquel suddenly experienced the futility of life when he realized that there is nothing you can do. If a dingo eats your baby, you can probably never prove it. Thank God there are no Dingos in Central Park. Marquel thought one of the most frustrating things in life is failing to convince others of the truth. Imagine going into the Ninth Precinct and saying, “a dingo ate my baby.” Nobody believes you.

Until your thirty year old dog child wanders out of the outback. The age was right, but all of Australia waited for the DNA tests. They didn’t know what to call him. “The dingo man” fit. But he was wild.

The Australian government met with zoo directors and Hollywood animal trainers. Also PETA. PETA claimed it was cruel to keep him in a house in Adelaide.

“This is a wild but sentient creature. He should live in his own environment.” Said PETA.

“No he shouldn’t,” said Lindy Chamberlain.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded PETA.

“I’m ‘is fuckin’ muthuh,” she answered.

“Yeah?” Asked PETA, “an’ I’m ‘is fuckin’ lawyer. Free the dingo man!”

At that moment the dingo man was curled up around Lindy Chamberlain‘s feet, gnawing on a bone.

Marquel contacted the dog trainer.

“I don’t understand your role,” I said.

“The guy is untrained. I’m teaching him to come when he’s called, how to stay, shake hands, heel and roll over.”

“What the hell does rolling over do?” I asked. “He’s a dingo man, not a dingo.”

“Believe me I know that. I’ve tried dingos but they’re untrainable. This one’s easy.” He said.

“Of course he’s easy,” I protested.

“Not so much on the exercise. I have him on a leash while I bike and I’m just dragging him on the ground the last mile and a half.” He said.

“Does he speak?” I asked.

“Speak? A dingo? Do you think I’m running a circus? He barks but I understand him. He might be hungry, need to be walked, or just be uncomfortable.” He said.

“I’ll bet he’s really uncomfortable being walked.” I said. I asked to speak to the zookeepers.

“We’re trying to see how he would fit in with the other animals. We have a dingo collection. We tried it and he seemed comfortable. Then PETA came around chanting ‘free the dingos,’ meaning all of them, and we couldn’t take the chance.”

I asked if I could meet the dingo man. They agreed.

“Does he like it here?” I asked Lindy Chamberlain.

“I believe so. Imagine, I’m not a murderer any more. Now I’m known as the dingo man’s mother. But he seemed happier in the dingo cage at the zoo.”

“Well he had all his friends,” I said. The dingo man was whining.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” She said to either me or the dingo man.

“Do you really need that collar and leash?” I inquired.

“He tends to run off. Then I’d be accused of being the child abusing dingo man’s mother. I can’t take any more bad publicity. Thirty years was enough.”

We went out and walked to a park. Dingo man was straining against the leash. I took the leash and ran around a path until he was winded. Lindy Chamberlain thanked me and took back the leash.

Suddenly a large Doberman approached. Its ears flattened. Its owner tugged. Dingo man’s ears seemed to flatten also, and he whined non-stop.

Suddenly dingo man broke free and was atop the Doberman, mounting him fiercely. The Doberman fled with the owner but dingo man was obviously done. He lay in the street, breathing heavily, bummed a cigarette off a passerby, and laid there in the street smoking a Camel.

I wondered what PETA would say. Lindy Chamberlain was saying, “that’s a good boy, that’s a good boy, that’s a good boy.”

***

BY MARQUEL: What a Dingo!