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A dog’s tale
I am having a little problem with this. The first few bits were easy. Where it said, “name”, I put “Mustang”. Then “nationality” – I put “Proudly Sri Lankan”. “Sex” – whaddaya think, bro, with a name like Mustang? “Male, male, all male”, rrrowff! But “age”, hmm, human years or dog years?
Meet Mustang
Now, “identifying characteristics” – my family says I’m partly alsation but that SundayTimes Editor is telling people, “More like a vulsation”. Very mean, no? I’ll put “white face, two black ears, two big brown eyes. One waggy tail.” You think the passports officer will like that? I need to get a passport urgently. I’m an old seadog now, and the world is mine to explore, wuff! The horizon beckons – shall I go east, west, north or south? Where do they have the most bacon?
This bacon thing has put me in the dog-house. Up to the time the Australians boarded our boat all the passengers were very nice and petted me a lot. But afterwards people got angry and said they had a bone to pick with me – they said only got bread from the Aussies but I was given bacon and beef.
And first I got a bath! I think the Aussies were really making sure I wasn’t carrying fleas but who cares? I was shampooed and smelled very posh. Then I got bacon! My, then I got black looks from my human family too. I ran excitedly back to them with a bit of bacon hanging out of my mouth to show them, and they snarled at me and said they only got some dried-out muesli bars past their expired date. So what this means is, I’m top dog, right?
Boy, I had a great time! I ran up and down the deck, going woof-woof, and the Aussies said, “Awww, isn’t he sweet!”, but some Sri Lankans said they weren’t allowed to talk at all. One man told Reuters, “They gave us expired chocolates. When we asked for a basin for a baby they did not give us one. But they gave a basin to the dog. They bathed the dog with shampoo. They gave the dog a towel and two bed sheets, but we were not given anything.” Top dog, huh!
And I’m famous in Australia. Did you hear they talked about me, Mustang, on a top radio show when their Immigration Minister was being asked why 41 Sri Lankans and a dog were fleeing from Sri Lanka? It went like this:
Announcer: A dog on board the vessel?
Minister: Yeah.
Announcer: Someone brought their dog?
Minister: Yes.
Announcer: A pet?
Minister: That’s right.
Announcer: What person brings a dog?
Minister: Look, I don’t know, Ray, but a dog was there …
Announcer: What’s the rationale? I mean, “Yes, look, we’re being persecuted and so is the dog so we’re bringing the dog with us!’. Was it a Tamil dog or a Sinhalese dog?
Minister: (laughs): Look, I don’t know, Ray. And the dog wasn’t subject to screening.
Personally, I don’t think that announcer was being quite simpatico, you know, asking why should my family take me to Australia or New Zealand. Why not, I say? They love me. I love them! I look after them! Grrr! But we have to overlook some rude Aussies because they have good bacon there. Very good bacon. Then I’ll go to Canada. There, they have bacon with maple syrup. Slurp.
I should go via the States. I bet Hollywood has heard of me by now, and they love dog movies – Lassie, The Incredible Journey, 1001 Dalmations, Beethoven – I can do it! I am Mighty Mustang, Superdog! They can cast me as d’Artagnan – all fur one and one fur all!
I must finish this passport application now. Tchah! Not enough room for my signature – how to put a pawprint on one line, men?
Now I’m off. I have to tell the Aussies not to be a dog in the manger and to let my family go there. I have to use my influence, no? My people are depending on me to bring home the bacon.