That's a Billy, I'm not gay.
Oh that brings back memories !
If You're TLDR type person, tune out now, this is a long story
Backgound to the tale:
A: - My best mate in my teens was Zorba! A Cross German Shepherd/Greyhound?
Dad once clocked him running at 80kph, keeping up with the car - I shit you not!,
Zorba could jump a six foot fence, from the low side of a 45 degree driveway, in one go!
He used to get a lot of excersize by accompanying me on my daily paper run, a 2KM ride uphill to the distributor, and a 2km flat out run down-hill to the local milk bar.
He was called Zorba, because he had so much fur, if we threw in into the creek that ran behind the house, he would (ready for it?) Ab-Zorba-The-Creek [and you wonder why my puns are so bad/good]
]
After touring the country for a few years, I moved back into the old's place for a bit while trying to find work, and Zorba & I used to walk 5 - 10 km every night.
He, for the walk & fun (like sniffing where dogs have pissed & stuff),
Me, to smoke a few doobies & practice my singing with a walkman.
and.....
B: My Mum's a bit, er 'unique'?
She was Born in Holland during WW2. so English is her second language.
She's Dutch, Deaf, & Diabetic, so technically, she's 3D!
We've never quite been able to figure out the 4D thing (dementia), because,... well,...
she always has had a tendency to grab the wrong end of the stick, and treat it like it's the olympic torch.
If there was an olympic event called "leaping to the wrong conclusion", she'd still be a gold medallist!
And she also listens to WAAAAAAYYYY too much shock jock radio!
And...
When this particular incident happened, dogs were being kidnapped from our area (for reasons unknown, but many theories were propounded on the Neil Mitchell show)
I hope I've set the scene, & placed the characters, So now you have the story background.
Now let me explain why the phrase "That's a Billy, I'm not gay!" cracks me up.
The Story:
So when I moved out with my ex-missus from Doncaster to Healesville, we couldn't Take Zorba with us, because we lived on a main HWY, and we had no fences.
We also lived too far for regular Walkie's visits for Zorba, so no-one else walked him.
Zorba was getting on in years by this stage, and I suspect he knew death was drawing nearer, so one day he took off from the family home (he may have been trying to find me, but I may be flattering myself).
Several Days later, the family got a call from a priest in Knox (30 km in the wrong direction), to let them know Zorba was in the churchyard, quite exhausted, and could they come and pick him up? Which my Mum & brother did.
Mum & Bro took him straight to the vet, who declared that there was no way he could have walked that far, according to the condition of his paws.
Whilst driving home from the vet (& I kid you not), mum said to my brother -
*read this in a Dutch accent, it makes if funnier*
"Hmmph! I know vat happen!
Some dirty bugger kidnap ze dog!
Und den ven dey realize he is a boy dog, dey threw him out of the car!
now put yourself in the mind-space of the kidnapper
"I was hoping for a dog-root, but I'm no poof!"
So, Az, I'm just asking, was it you, that kidnapped Zorba?
