Matey and I spent the next eight days together. By now, he was a healthy, exuberant young dog. He leapt into my lap when I sat outside the van, then pretended to be contrite when I pushed him away. He lay close to my chair, head resting on his paws, watching for the slightest sign of softening. When I gave in—‘Oh, alright Matey’—he would be upon me again, l*****g and nuzzling my face with little cries of joy. He hated being tied up, and when I released him, he ran in ecstatic circles, coming back again and again to jump in joy until I warned, ‘Settle down, Matey.’
He adored me and I loved his uncomplicated companionship.
From Kalinda Station, we lurched back along the corrugated track to the Eyre Highway and turned west. The next shed was 630 kilometres away, a short distance east of the
