Red Dog by Louis De Bernières

thought that he had better stop, however, in case Peeto was in some kind of trouble. This is the code all over rural Australia, and everyone observes it. In this case it was only a moment before he and Peeto had forgotten their differences altogether.
    The two men battled to get Red Dog into the back of the ute. It was frightening to have to try to control an animal, who was also an old and well-loved friend, who was thrashing about in their arms as if possessed by a devil. Peeto and Bill swore and winced as Red Dog’s claws raked across their faces, and swore all over again when Red began to vomit.
    Finally they heaved Red Dog into the vehicle, and stood back for a breather. ‘What the hell is it?’ asked Peeto, gesturing towards the suffering animal.
    ‘It’s poison, mate,’ said Bill. ‘Strychnine. I’ve seen it before. They get these convulsions that last for hours, and then they die.’
    ‘Who’d give Red poison, for God’s sake? He’s everyone’s pet dog.’
    Bill pursed his lips and shook his head knowingly. ‘The things I’ve seen since I was a policeman, you justwouldn’t believe. I’ll tell you, mate, there’s no animal lower than us in the whole damn world.’ He looked at Peeto and said, ‘We’d better get him to the vet, mate.’
    They looked at Red in his agony, and Peeto said, ‘Let’s take him to the copshop, and call the vet out. I don’t reckon it’ll do him any good to have to go all the way to Roebourne.’
    So it was that Red Dog was driven to the police station and laid down on the table, where Bill tried to hold him still whilst Peeto called the vet. He spoke urgently into the phone, and then came back looking grim.
    ‘The vet’s away,’ he said. ‘I’ve left a message, but they don’t know when he’ll be back.’
    Peeto took over from Bill in the battle to hold Red Dog still. He grasped Red Dog by the upper forearms, and then looked sideways at the policeman. He said, ‘There’s only one thing we can do. We can’t let it go on. I can’t bloody bear it.’
    ‘You’re right,’ said Bill, ‘but I don’t want to.’
    ‘You’ve got to, mate,’ said Peeto softly. ‘If he carries on like this he’s going to break his own bones. You can’t look at him like this and think there’s any hope.’
    ‘I’ve got to account for every bullet,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t know if I’m supposed to be putting down dogs.’
    ‘Listen, we’ll all back you up. No-one’s going to give you a bashing for helping out a poor old dog.’
    ‘Yeah, well, I guess you’re right,’ said Bill. ‘I guess you’re right. But even so …’
    ‘You’ve got to, mate. Red would thank you for it.’
    ‘We’ll take him outside,’ said Bill. ‘We can’t do it indoors. I know that much.’
    Between them they picked up the convulsing dog, and carried him out into the sunshine. They laid him on the red earth. A squad of tiny pigeons called to each other in a nearby palm tree, seeming to mock each other. Bill unbuckled the flap on his holster. He took out his pistol, loaded the chamber with two bullets and stood silently for a moment. Peeto saw that his eyes were filling with tears.
    He knelt down and stroked Red Dog’s head with the back of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to do this, and you’ve got to forgive me.’
    Red Dog was too raddled with the poison to know what was happening, let alone to understand or forgive. It was as if the poison had removed his personality and his identity. He was nothing but a living heap of contorting pain.
    Bill knelt down and put the muzzle to Red’s forehead, between the eyes, but could not hold the gun steady because the dog was convulsing too much. ‘We’ve got to hold him still,’ said Bill. ‘Otherwise I can’t do it.’
    ‘I can’t hold his head,’ said Peeto, desperately. ‘He’s moving around so much, I might get shot in the hand.’
    Just then, Red Dog fell still for a moment, and Bill put the gun to