Who let the dogs out?
Jets of urine hit the hubcaps with pinpoint accuracy and leave trickling mosaics on my car’s dust-covered wheels. The kelpie culprits circle the vehicle, somewhat ecstatic at bailing up a mechanical beast in their territory. Being greeted by cocked legs and a firm handshake is the way it’s done down on Munna, a 3700-acre property near the township of Coolah, in NSW. It’s a place I’ve visited since lifting my own leg in nappies at an early age. Man and his dogs enjoy a symbiotic relationship on Munna, a bond built on trust and respect, where four legs are faster than two and canine training is developed on the run. You wont find any puppy parlour or poncy poodles with clipped arseholes in this neck of the woods. This is Red Dog country where a kick from a cow, pesky thorns under paw and tumbling off the tray of the Toyota are all part of a dog day afternoon. Released from their kennels at first light, the lithe pack of hounds scoot across the ground nippin...