Louis de Bernières - Blue Dog

When a family tragedy means Mick is sent to the outback to live with his Granpa, it looks as if he has a lonely life ahead of him. The cattle station is a tough place for a child, where nature is brutal and the men must work hard in the heat and dust. However, after a cyclone hits, things change for Mick. Exploring the floodwaters, he finds a lost puppy covered in mud and half-drowned. Mick and his dog immediately become inseparable as they take on the adventures offered by their unusual home, and the business of growing up, together.

In this charming prequel to the much-loved Red Dog, Louis de Bernires tells the moving story of a young boy and his Granpa, and the charismatic and entertaining dog who so many readers hold close to their hearts.

Louis de Bernires is the best-selling author of Captain Corellis Mandolin, which won the Commonwealth Writers Prize, Best Book in 1995. His most recent books are The Dust That Falls From Dreams, Birds Without Wings and A Partisans Daughter, a collection of stories, Notwithstanding, and two collections of poetry, Imagining Alexandria and Of Love and Desire. He wrote Red Dog in 2001 and was inspired by the upcoming film about his canine hero to write this prequel.

POETRY

Of Love and Desire

Imagining Alexandria

A Walberswick Goodnight Story

FICTION

The Dust that Falls from Dreams

Notwithstanding: Stories from an English Village

A Partisans Daughter

Birds without Wings

Red Dog

Sunday Morning at the Centre of the World

Captain Corellis Mandolin

The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman

Seor Vivo and the Coca Lord

The War of Don Emmanuels Nether Parts

NON-FICTION

The Book of Job: An Introduction

THE DIRTY OLD Cessna came down on the landing strip, and bounced. The pilot whooped, and took the aircraft up into the air again. He glanced at the pale little boy beside him, and said, Dont be a worry-wart, mate, its just for fun. You dont get many laughs out here unless you find em yourself.

As the plane banked round for another run, Mick looked out in wonder at the land beneath him. It consisted of brown grass, twisted trees, red rocks and red earth, and pretty much not anything else as far as the eye could see, unless you counted the sea, which sparkled in the distance like a tray of diamonds.

Everythings red, said Mick.

Ive brought you to Mars, mate. Thought youd like some space travel.

You cant get to Mars in an aeroplane, Mick told him, more confidently than he really felt.

Jeez, youre a sharp one. Might as well be on Mars, though. This is the Pilbara. Youve got to be barmy as a bandicoot to live out here. Even the roos and dingos are barmy. Give me Margaret River any day. Its lovely down in Albany. Its stiff bickies youve got to live up here.

Port Hedland looked nice, said Mick.

Well, it is. Got the best fish and chips in the world. Great place if you like fishing. Caught a shark there once, with a roo steak.

The plane came down again, and Mick tried not to be frightened. It was scary to see the ground rushing up like that; the plane waggled from side to side as the earth rushed up to meet them, and the thump of landing made his stomach seem to jump up into his throat. He gripped the side of his seat, his knuckles white. After they had slewed to a halt, they sat there for a while until the cloud of red dust that had enveloped them had been given time to disperse. It suddenly seemed very hot in the cockpit.

When the pilot opened the door and told him to clamber out, the heat overcame the boy like a blast from hell. Mick did not know how to react. He had never felt a heat so dense, as if it were made of metal. Not so hot today, the pilot said. Youre lucky. Sometimes its like a bloody furnace.

Mick stood on the shimmering earth, and the pilot tossed his blue suitcase down to him, saying, Here, mate, catch! It wasnt a big case, but it was crammed with almost everything that Mick owned, and he fell backwards as it hit his chest.

Sorry, mate, said the pilot, as Mick stood up and looked dumbly at the red dust that covered his hands and clothes. Better get used to it.

The pilot came down, and stood against the tailplane, calling over his shoulder, Scuse me, mate, just got to shake hands with the unemployed.

Mick was from a polite family in Sydney, and it filled him with wonder that someone would actually wee in public without embarrassment. He was busting himself, but he was going to wait until the aircraft had gone. When he grew older, and told foreigners that he came from Sydney, hed add, But Sydney isnt really Australia. This was something he was just beginning to learn as he stood out there in the desert, a city boy of eleven years who felt as if he had lost everything.

The pilot finished, buttoned himself up, and said cheerfully, No one to meet you. Thats a shame. Dont worry, someonell be along in two shakes. Ill leave you a bottle of water. And you can have my sandwiches. Bloody Vegemite and cucumber. She knows I dont like it.

Why dont you just make your own sandwiches then? asked Mick sensibly, but the pilot just looked at him as if he was mad, and replied, Take my advice, mate, dont get married. Youre better off with a dog, and thats the truth.

Mick sat on his suitcase and watched the plane take off in another plume of dust, and then disappear, the sun glinting on its wings despite its shabbiness. It banked as it turned back towards Port Hedland, waggling its wings in friendly farewell. Mick had liked that strange, humorous, rough-hewn pilot, and the thought struck him that maybe when he grew up he could be a bush pilot too, or a flying doctor.

The noise of the engine faded out in the distance, and Mick realised that he was completely alone. It was slightly strange not to be feeling the vibration and noise of the plane any more. The heat was stunning, and there was nothing he could do but sit there and wait, fighting back the panic and horror of being alone in this vast alien place of spinifex and red-hot rock. He opened his suitcase and took out a shirt to put on his head, because he could feel the sun burning his hair off and parching the skin of his face and lips, and reseated himself on the case. He noticed a ta-ta lizard, nearby, watching him with detachment as it raised one foot then another to dispel the heat. It really did look as though it were waving goodbye.

Today had been the end of a long farewell. It was goodbye to Sydney, for one thing. There had been too many goodbyes. Just a few months ago his dad had died, and he still did not really know why or how. Nobody seemed to want to talk to him about it. They just said, Youve got to be a brave boy, and make sure your mums all right. He couldnt think of his father as dead, not that tall strong man who used to bowl cricket balls at him, and hold him upside down over the garden pond, and show him how to use a sling so that he could play at David and Goliath by hurling pebbles at a Moreton Bay Pine, and told him absurd stories at night until he could keep his eyes open no longer, and would go to sleep laughing. Mick was still numb from it all, and hadnt been able to cry, even in private. They hadnt let him go to the funeral. Hed only been to visit the grave to take flowers to it, and it had given him nightmares afterwards as he imagined what his father might look like now, six feet under the ground.