"I catched you
a lizard Mummy"
Rah and Ekky were always mad lizard
hunters. They got it from Katie. One day they were
out together and I could hear this mad ruckus. Rah
had caught a big blue tongue lizard and was proudly
screaming around the yard with it hanging out of her
mouth (it's head was in her mouth) trying to evade
Ekky, who wanted it too.
I caught Rah and thought "How
do I get this thing off her? I know, I'll tug on the
tail, say 'Ta Rah' and she'll cough it up." So
I tugged and ta'd and promptly pulled the lizard clean
in half, leaving the head in Rah's mouth and guts
dangling everywhere. Ewwww. After I stopped heaving
I went and got a garden glove and recommenced the
chase. I did eventually get the rest of the lizard
off her, but after that if Rah caught a lizard, Rah
could have it!!! I have a tough stomach but not for
"Echoe's brown slithering friend"
Echoe was a mad hunter of anything bird or lizard
like. We came home one day to find that Echoe had
busted out of her run and was sitting in the front
common section. This was strange as she was always
such a good girl and not a fence destroyer like Katie.
I walked in and got her and checked her over and
she seemed fine, just one or two hairless patches.
We couldn't work out what had happened.
Bren walked into the common section a little later
and noticed a large pile of meat ants going crazy
in the corner. They were feasting on a five and a
half foot brown snake that had been doggie crunched!
We hadn't finished our snake proofing yet and one
had got in - so Echoe had busted out of her run and
killed it - protecting her family. I still feel sick
knowing that we could have come home and found her,
and maybe the others, dead. Thankfully she won the
battle that time. What a brave girl.
"Breathe Sargey Breathe!"
December 23rd 2004 Sarge and Katie
were out the back playing in the dust when Sarge suddenly
stood up, vomited, erupted at 'the other end', vomited
again and collapsed in the dust. We quickly called
the vet but they weren't open for another 30 minutes
and the emergency centre was almost an hour away.
I got him up and we carried him to
the car. I lay in the back seat with him for the 15
minute drive to the vet watching my beautiful boy
blow up like a helium balloon, his throat and nostrils
close over and him struggling to breathe. Then he
stopped breathing. He just stopped.
I can still remember trying to blow
air into him and yelling at him to breathe baby breathe
with tears running down my face. After what seemed
an eternity, but was probably between 30 seconds and
1 minute, he took this great shuddering breath, sat
up and looked at me. Almost instantly all of the swelling
went down and he burst out into hives all over his
By this stage we were at the vet hospital.
The vet arrived shortly there after and could not
believe what they saw or what had happened to him.
They believe he suffered a severe allergic reaction
to a bush scorpion bite and was a very lucky boy.
The nephews stopped collecting bush scorpions in the
back yard that very same day and we were all so relieved
that our big boy was okay. That event scared the you
know what out of me! Love my Main Man. xx
"Major where are you??"
Major Lee was always a real character.
He had learnt that if you were really clever, you
could maybe, just maybe, squeeze yourself out under
the fence like the wombats do and go for a wander.
Now this of course wasn't something we liked him doing,
so we did our best to peg that fence down. But one
night, Major achieved success. He achieved the status
of 'Master Wombat'.
When we realised he was missing we
both went into immediate panic. I headed up the back
tripping over rocks and sticks in a pair of thongs,
yelling 'Majey Wee, Majey Wee, come to Mummy' and
trying not to sound like I was in a panic. But no
answer. Bren was racing around
down the front bellowing 'Majey where's my cream bun,
come on Majey'. But no answer.
Then Bren had a bright idea. He thought
about the fact that if Major was chasing a wombat
or a roo, they always headed down the hill to the
spring fed dam. So he got into the ute, turned the
lights on high and drove slowly along the fire trail
beeping the horn. Sitting lost and lonely by the spring
fed dam, was our Major Lee. Just waiting for his Dad
and Mum to come and get him because HE WAS
LOST - a horrible great distance of about
100m from the house.
From that day on, if Major got out,
we just drove down to the dam and picked him up. He
always knew we'd come for him. Such a sweet and smart
memory was kindly written by our very good friend
Andrew Munden at my request just over 4 years ago,
when I said I wanted to do a Bullmastiff Stories /
Memories page. I may be slow Lurch, but I get there
:<) Whilst Digger was not one of our kids, (and
you might wonder why he is on the memory page for
our kids) we greatly admire his temperament and the
love he inspired in our friends. We are proud to be
able to share his story. Thank you Lurch for this
beautiful memory of your mate and for your ongoing
friendship and support. With much love from The GrizzMuffley
This is dedicated to
an exceptional dog, my mate Digger, who may not have
been a great example of breed “type”, but had the
typical Bullmastiff temperament in spades. I’d grown
up hearing stories about Mack-dog, who was a huge
English Mastiff we’d had when I was small. Dad always
called him a bullmastiff, but looking back, at 240lbs
and the height of a Great Dane, he was definitely
a Mastiff. So, when I eventually got married I had
to have a Bullmastiff. I convinced my wife we needed
a big, strong guard dog type, because I would be travelling
a lot with my job, and he would keep her safe.
Digger was our first bully; we got
him from a backyard breeder in Dubbo, from a litter
of about 12, with no papers. He was a bit of a sooky
puppy, but had enormous feet, and a cute expression,
so he was ours – for all of $50. He had a fairly inauspicious
start, with friends picking him up from the airport
for us and delivering him to our home, with all the
windows wound down to try and clear the air - as he’d
been fed just before leaving. Their car never smelt
the same again…
At first, we thought he was going
to be a useless guard dog, because he was so soft.
One day, a baby bird fell from its nest, and Digger
barked at the back door until we came out to discover
the problem. He ran back and forward to the bird and
the tree until I put the bird back in the nest. Some
ferocious guard dog! However, not long after, when
he was about a year old, an armed escapee set up in
our neighbour’s garden shed. They had been away for
a few days, and on their return late at night, let
their two Corgis into the yard, so the intruder made
a big mistake – he jumped the fence. I was woken by
Digger’s “I’m going to kill something” bark, and went
to investigate. Naturally, it was the middle of winter,
raining, I was only wearing pyjama shorts and didn’t
turn on the back light as I walked out the back door.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back with
55kg of puppy slobbering all over me. Thankfully he
had recognised me at about the same time as he impacted
Later, we had moved house and were
having a new phone line installed. My wife was pregnant
with our first at the time, and Digger was particularly
concerned for her. She was doing some gardening in
the front yard, I was inside the house, and we had
introduced him to the telephone repairman. Digger
was happily sitting in his favourite vantage spot,
which gave him good visibility of the whole yard.
The repairman had just retrieved the new phone line
from under the house and was walking towards his van,
when I heard a thunderous roar. Looking out the window
I saw the poor guy, terrified, backed up to the wall
of the house with Digger bouncing up and down, snarling,
growling and slobbering right in his face. After calling
him off (well, actually screaming “NO” in a mad panic!)
it turns out the phone guy had been walking towards
his van (where my wife was) carrying a big stick.
At this stage, Digger was about 75kg of solid muscle
and was about 29in tall. He had a long muzzle, and
virtually no mask, so we had decided that he was a
throwback to the old type of bully, looking at some
of the pictures in older books. He wasn’t a show dog,
but he was a great bullmastiff nonetheless.
Digger loved our kids. When our first
arrived, he would just stare lovingly at her in the
pram. One day, we were at the beach when she was about
two, and whilst getting set up, we turned our back
on her for a few seconds. We were interrupted by screams
of “naughty boy digger” from our little independent
miss, as he prevented her from walking into the little
lagoon any deeper then her knees. He just looked at
us as if to say “kids!”
He adopted all our family, and they
all loved him too. My parents particularly fell for
the big boy, and one time when on holidays at their
house, my mum was making vegemite sandwiches (his
favourite) for all the grandkids. Digger sat patiently
in the kitchen, resting his chin on mum’s kitchen
bench, a nice pool of dribble forming, as he waited
for his sanger…
Eventually my mate got cancer. It
was a terrible thing to see, the way it ate away at
him as he dropped from 75kg to 45kg in about two months.
Just before I had him put to sleep, my parents came
down for a visit. Dad was on all fours chasing our
three year old around the lounge room floor, as she
squealed in fun. As they went past Digger, who was
lying on the floor, he just moved across, put his
head under dad’s chest, lifted him onto his feet and
positioned himself between dad and our daughter. As
sick as he was, his protective instinct never let
us down. He was my mate and I still miss him.