Waiting for the boss

Old Blue Heeler
28 Aug 20
by Andy

Waiting for the boss

A poem about the ones we leave behind, written by Mary O’Brien of Are You Bogged Mate?

She lay dozing by the back gate, as only boss dogs do,
Twitching in her sleep, sweet dreams she’d caught a roo.
Her age it was apparent, her fur had lost its gloss,
She was soaking up the morning sun, just waiting for the Boss.

Stirring from her slumber, a sound had pricked her ear,
A threat she had to warn of, a vehicle drawing near.
She sprang into the fray, to frighten friend or foe,
This calls for full alert she thought, so barking she did go.

With hackles up and growling, no time for her to stall,
She had to let the Boss know, when people came to call.
She raced out to defend, as the vehicle slowed to park,
Strangers wouldn’t know, she was less ferocious than her bark.

It looks like Sal and Pete, from over there next door,
She eased her barking down a bit, just ‘til she was sure.
She looked towards the back gate, expecting Boss’ cheer,
She knew he liked to chat with Pete, to laugh and have a beer.

Standing at the back door, the Missus she did spy,
Sal rushed passed without a glance, as Missus began to cry.
She walked on over to the gate, trying hard to see inside,
She sat and waited there, with head cocked to the side.

Still no movement from the house, the noonday sun did shine,
Sniffing ‘round she found a spot, beneath the Athol Pine.
She wonders what is keeping Boss, he’s never been this late,
She scratched her ear and settled down, just listening for the gate.

Maybe she should check again, and lap around the shed,
Boss might have slipped out quietly, while the kids were still in bed.
As she disappeared around the ute, the sun sank in the sky,
Amidst the deafening silence, she heard the Missus cry.

Another vehicle rumbled in, she barked her warning strong,
This place is like a freeway, with a line of vehicles long.
Delighted in her guard dog work, she wagged her shabby tail,
She had never let the Boss down, never did she fail.

She waited for his whistle, and him calling to ‘get up’,
He’d trained her well for many years, since she was just a pup.
They chased mobs of sheep and goats, or bullocks through the scrub,
And when the long day ended, her faithful head he’d rub.

Come on Boss let’s do some work, what is the plan today?
Let’s check the troughs, fix a fence, and give the bulls some hay.
What’s with all the people, and why are they so sad?
She snapped a fly and licked her lips, it didn’t taste so bad.

As another group of people, made their way inside,
She didn’t really understand, why the Missus cried.
Those whispered words she heard again, ‘we’re sorry for your loss’,
But she kept right on sitting there, just waiting for the Boss.

– Mary O’Brien


Originally posted on Bogged Blog