Darcy - Every Man and His Dog

Since Indigenous Australians first shared their lives with dingoes thousands of years ago, dogs have been part of the fabric of everyday life in Australia. In Every Man & His Dog David Darcy explores this timeless bond between man and dog. Travelling around Australia, from the coast to the Outback, David photographed blokes from all walks of life as they talked about their dogsfrom tough working dogs to pampered family pets.

The result is a funny, moving and unforgettable tribute to mans best friend.

Dedicated to Fozzy 19982013

Introduction

As the rain belts down on the tin roof above, I find myself curled up on the couch in my quiet home in Katoomba, contemplating the events of the past months. Three little facesall of whom are grey around the whiskersstare at me from their doggie beds in front of the fire. I ponder the fortunes and misfortunes that this project has bestowed on me, and Im hit with an overwhelming sense of irony. I travelled all around Australia looking for stories about men and their dogs. I found many of themmany wonderful and charming stories indeedbut with a lump in my throat I will tell my own doggie tale.

With the ute packed, Eggbert and Doc on board and the camera ready to roll, I said goodbye to my old dog Fozzy, told Felix to guard the house while I was gone, kissed my wife Maria and drove down the driveway, setting off on what I hoped would be another wonderful adventure. Little did I know that this project was about to become a physical and emotional tugowar. It was the middle of January and because of the time constraintsI had just three months to shoot the bookI figured if I headed south from Sydney first before driving north through the Outback, Id avoid the worst of the northern heat. If only I had known what was to come!

Three days into the trip I found myself in the middle of 40-degree heat, wind storms and bushfires in the Alpine region of New South Wales. With ash and embers in the air, I avoided the worst of the raging infernos and wove my way across the Alps into the Victorian township of Omeo. The mountain men and their yarns about working dogs made an awe-inspiring distraction from the surrounding danger.

To find interesting characters and their dogs in each town, I would simply ask the locals if anyone with a dog stood out. Id go to the pub or the post office, or just chat with locals on the street. The smaller the town, the better; everybody knows everyone in small-town Australia. And outside the cities I adopted a simple ruleif the town had a McDonalds restaurant, I would just keep driving.

In Melbourne I quickly snapped a couple of city-dwelling Mexicans and their mutts in and around the city before turning around and heading north. Im not really one for the big smoke, and I spent more time worrying about my camera gear being stolen than chasing dog stories. But Im really glad I bumped into Wayne and Kokoda before I departed. Wayne personifies the type of man and story I was looking for.

A quick zig-zag through central Victoria and I soon found myself in the Murray River township of Echuca. I went looking for paddle-boat captains and their dogs but instead I met Steve and Coke. Steves story broke my heart and brought me to tears

Two weeks later I was home again. A quick recharge and a review of the work so far and before I knew it I was back on the road. This project was really taking shape. I had a good run at first, but by the time I reached Dorrigo things began to change. The rain bucketed down and over the next week I spent every night sleeping under a tarp on the back of the ute. Everything got wetmy swag and all my clothes, the dogs, my food and the cameras. Southern Queensland was in flood. The rain was torrential. I was so fed up that by the time I reached the Gold Coast I was ready to call it quits. As I lay in a wet swag I can honestly say that I wanted to go home and cancel the whole bloody project.

Then came a little ray of light. By chance I was invited to a very luxurious property in Brisbane. While standing in this mansionsmelling like a wet dog, my toes poking through holes in my socksI witnessed the true meaning of every man and his dog. Regardless of race, religion or, in this case, wealth, Michael loved his dogs and his dogs loved him. It re-ignited my dampened enthusiasm. After blow-drying my waterlogged cameras, I realised I had to press on. As an artist, I thrive on inspiration. I was back in the game.

I decided to head west, away from the coast and away from the rain. It was now nearly the end of February, and when I reached Augathella I quickly remembered it was still summer. Hot, dry, Outback summer. I went from drowned rat to baked potato. My inspiration was now threatening to evaporate. Ive endured extreme heat plenty of times but even the seasoned locals were complaining about this end to summer. Officially, the temperature hovered around 40 degrees Celsius every day for about a month. Some days sizzled past 44.

Even though Id driven around Australia many times, at different times of the year, this was my worst experience of the Outback. I was burnt, bitten and disheartened. I have a ruleI will not sit in an air-conditioned car when the dogs are on the back of the ute suffering, and Im embarrassed to say they did suffer. I could find little respite for myself, let alone my two best friends. I resorted to carrying even more water than I would normally just so I could occasionally wet down the dogs, who would cool off while I drove.

The heat, isolation, mechanical failures and close encounters with venomous snakes were all pushing me to a very uncomfortable place. I almost met my maker on this trip. As I passed the turnoff to Uluru my mobile phone rang and when I answered my wife uttered the four tragic words, Shes gone, Fozzys dead.

For fifteen years Fozzy had been by my side, through thick and thin. She was my first dog, the mother to the three little faces looking at me now. I was travelling around Australia, looking for dog stories 1000 miles away, and she was gone. Fozzy had seen much of Australia with me, from the furthest reaches of the Top End to the lowest parts of the southern coast. Fozzy and RM, who passed away five years ago, were my original travel buddies. But Fozzy was old, and had become too weak for these big trips. I thought it was best for her to stay at home and wait for me.

So it was with a heavy heart that I finished this project. Over the following weeks I made my way home through South Australia and rural New South Wales. I then went to the southwest region of Western Australia and Tasmania, searching for and joking and laughing with men and their best mates, but all the time quietly mourning the death of my own dog.