A Pocket Full Of Rainbows

By Todd Maguire on November 18, 2010 in Other

The laid back urban beach was one of the best-kept secrets on the east coast of Australia. That was until the hordes of cashed up professionals got a hold of it, blew the property prices out of the water and tried to make it their own – but that is another story.

With the change of demographics came an unwanted change in attitude and care for the prized coastal strip. A lady new to the area, calling herself an instant local, had a real bad manner when it came to ignoring the rules. She didn’t care for the ‘No Dog’ law, which had unfortunately come into force along certain parts of the beach. Fortunately, most of the locals turned a blind eye to her dog, due to its compact size. She protectively carried it in her arms most of the time anyway.

The dog lady would bring her small pet down to the coastal park and let it to the ground for a bit of a sniff and a scratch, and inevitably to relieve itself. She reckoned that her petite dog made such a small mess that nobody would be concerned. Hence, she never bothered to clean up after the charming little canine. The dog lady was as bold as they came.

But then there was Olive, who was also new to the area. The locals had become acquainted with Olive whether they liked it or not. Her thunderous foreign accent was as soothing as a chainsaw ripping through aluminium sheeting and people knew she was coming from a mile away. She did have a heart of gold though and her heroics on one day in particular deemed her a true local and the toast of the coastal town.

It was a sunny, mid-week October afternoon. Olive had finished her swim and was heading up the sand to the shower. Directly in front of her path, she spotted the dog lady with her prized pet. It was in deep concentration on the stairs leading from the beach. The little dog trembled as it produced a poo that was quite substantial considering the size of the dog. Distastefully, the offending pooh sat right in the middle of the stairs, fresh out of the oven. The dog lady couldn’t have cared less. She walked off blatantly leaving the steaming mess to fester in the sun.

Olive was aghast. How could one person be so rude and frivolous in her new home? She dug a generous handful of sand and with great courage, scooped up the offending poo, ensuring not to touch the canine stool sample with her nimble fingers. She then followed the criminal dog lady, snuck up her blind side and placed the poo straight into the side pocket of her designer cargo shorts.

Well you could hear the scream from the dog lady all the way up at Charing Cross. As she realised the despicable tomfoolery she’d become the victim of, she turned to attack Olive. But Olive had cleverly and quickly retreated back into the water to further her swimming workout. The dog lady didn’t know what to do or where to turn. There was deafening laughter directed her way, from the youngest pre-pubescent grommet to the oldest sun-weathered retiree. The dog lady had been got good. Real good.

Olive had instantly become a true local hero and you can still hear her from a mile away. But in retrospect, the dog lady should really think herself lucky. If she owned a large golden retriever, rather than such a tiny excuse for a dog, I doubt there would be a pocket large enough to hold a poo of such grand proportions!