The Boss's Dog

Good news on the virus and me!

By The General

The Boss is worried about this coronavirus and he shouldn’t be - I’ve been trying to re-assure him.

The fact is, I’m not going to get it.

This COVID-19 goes from animals to humans, rather than the other way round, so dogs everywhere are enjoying the spectacle as humans descend into a state of wild panic.

Like they did in Hong Kong the other day when they found an old Pomeranian, supposedly carrying it after his master was infected.

The poor little mutt was carted off to a quarantine station and globally vilified when they found traces of the virus on him and in his throat – but it turned out to be what my hero, The Donald, would call “a HOAX.”

The tests pulled up negative and they concluded that dogs weren’t a useful host for the virus – but they could carry it on their fur quite easily.

The lesson here is that you humans need to cough into your elbow – and not onto your dog!

So dogs can continue to relax, eat and doze away in a state of spiritual calm.

Except maybe elsewhere in China, where the people welded into their houses for several weeks are highly likely to be ravenous and start feasting their eyes on the family hound.

You might remember me writing about those Chinese Year-of-the-Dog celebrations when they bundle up their pooches for the annual dogfest – or dog feast. Uncalled for, in my view:

Looking on the bright side, the Chinese dogs might get a bit of their own back with an excess of dead humans lying in the streets.

As for the Italian and Iranian dogs, the outlook is altogether less gruesome - although they will end up a tad skinny if they have to survive on parsley and spaghetti, or Persian walnut and pomegranate stew.

Mind you, I did sniff around the shed to make sure The Boss has plenty of dry dog food for me – so long as he doesn’t start tucking into it himself.

Right now, things out here on the river are honky-dory – we don’t yet see an influx of people wanting to live wild, with tents popping up everywhere.

The Boss reckons the canny punters could set up their Easter camps early – and stay for three months! What could be safer than living out in the bush, feeding on cod, yellers and shrimp?

And every cloud has a silver lining, as you know. The shortage of loo paper means that I won’t be finding reams of it strewn behind trees and wafting through the wattles after a camping weekend.

The lazy devils who leave their detritus for me and The Boss to clean up – well, The Boss mainly while I watch and wag my tail a lot – are the same ones buying trolley-loads to horde it at home. That’s The Boss’s theory anyway and who am I to say he’s wrong?