After an early breakfast, Hepsta saw the folks off to work and enjoyed a mad dash around the garden, checking to see who’d visited during the night. As usual, Miss Kali observed from the deck, offering the occasional unhelpful suggestion.

It was a completely unremarkable morning.

But trouble was brewing in this small town, as The Hepsta was soon to discover. She had her first inkling at the beach, where she and a group of friends met most mornings. They had heard rumours and were keen to share.

Birds had been disappearing from the pontoon.

Now, that in itself wasn’t particularly strange. It was a meeting point for the whole south coast. Travellers and transients would often rest there a couple of days on their way to somewhere else.

But this was different. Several of the locals had vanished and one of them, Madge, had been there for donkeys years.

After a decent gallop the length of the beach and back with the gang, Hepsta went in search of more information.

She spied the young black kelpie, Bodie, hanging about the break water and headed his way. Predictably, Bodie wasn’t keen to get involved. No doubt he was already in another sort of trouble anyway. Hepsta decided to go straight to the source of the rumours.

The pontoon and boat ramp were deserted. All the holiday makers had returned home the previous week, and the locals were either at work or tucked up inside preparing for the cold change forecast for that evening.

A couple of silver gulls lurked around the fish cleaning station, pecking at scraps revealed by the low tide. One of them nodded at Hepsta and squawked a greeting. The gulls were notoriously keen on gossip, but when Hepsta went straight to the point and asked about the vanishings, the friendly gull got fidgety. She looked around nervously. Hepsta was pretty sure her tongue was about to get the better of her, when the water behind her stirred and a smooth head appeared.

Hepsta watched the gull skedaddle and stared sternly at the seal. A group of them had moved into the area from the Island recently and become quite the troublemakers. The seal grinned back at her, showing all of its stained teeth. It had no intention of helping anyone.

Where next?

The gull had told Hepsta to follow her nose. At the moment all she could smell was the seal’s rancid fishy breath and mud.

Mud, hmm… The Wetlands was only a short canter away. Although there weren’t too many birds there this time of year, Hepsta knew someone who might have information. It was a risky business, but Hepsta was now committed to solving the mystery.

As it turned out, the red-belly black snake knew nothing. She was focused on ridding her home of ants driven there by recent rains. Speaking of ants, some had got into Hepsta’s fur while she sat with the snake. Hepsta rolled aound on the grass and had a good scratch while she thought about her next move.

Baggy Bill usually hung out down by the boardwalk.

It meant retracing her steps, but Hepsta was a fit young Koolie and had all the day at her disposal. She trotted back past the pontoon, ignoring the seal smirking at her from behind a rock, and went in search of the pelican.

Luckily the old bird was in his usual spot, accompanied by some poor youngster he had convinced to hold his beak up while he swam after minnows. He had one disturbing piece of information.

Hepsta thought hard. Something dangerous was going down in her peaceful town. Who else could possibly know more about the direful doings of that dark underworld?

The answer hit her like a pawful of claws. She raced through the reserve and up the hill back to her own house. Miss Kali was skulking around in the bushes at the foot of the garden with pollen in her ears.

There was no point pushing the cat. If Miss Kali knew something, she’d be only too keen to tease Hepsta with it.

Hepsta headed back to the beach, where she did her best running and thinking. And there she ran until the sand stung her paws and her mouth was dry. Then she sat and sniffed the air. A strange smell came from a clump of seaweed drying out at the high tide mark. She explored it carefully with her nose and scratched at the weed.

A sad clue indeed. It must have come in with the tide last night.

Hepsta dug a hole in the pretty samphire beyond the dunes and laid the wing to rest. Following a respectful silence, she turned to the horizon and raised her nose. The fresh sea-breeze had swung to the East. Hepsta sniffed and sniffed and suddenly…

The gull had been right. Her nose had the answer. It was all there on the breeze.

The Koolie charged back along the beach, past the pontoon again, and along the boardwalk to the tiny harbour at its end. She was pretty sure the fishing boat Talisman would be setting out any moment.

As she ran, Hepsta could smell the diesel from idling engines and hear the chug that signalled an imminent departure. Nobody noticed her clear the gunwale with one smooth leap and disappear beneath a tarp near the stern.

Luckily, it was a smooth passage through the Bar and out to sea. After a while, when the crew were occupied at the Helm, Hepsta crept out and placed herself where she could see.

The sea around the North end of the Island was sparkling in the bright Wintery sun when they arrived. Hepsta made it onto the ricketty jetty without being seen and snuffled around for the smell she had caught on the beach

Her main suspect was enjoying himself on the other side of the Island, swimming circles around a tired looking tern, and lunging at the young penguins hiding among the rocks. Hepsta drew a deep breath and shouted at the water…

In answer, the seal barged into the tern and sent it tumbling head over heels, squawking and fluttering in fear.

Now Hepsta was a gentle dog, with a kind and good heart. But when she saw the terror on the tern’s face, something began to build up inside her. She put on her sternest face and barked commandingly at the seal.

The seal was unimpressed and scrambled onto a convenient rock.

Hepsta stared helplessly at him. She had tried her best and failed. All around, she could smell the birds watching hopefully from their various hidey holes.

The seal snorted rudely and prepared to leap back into the water.

And then it happened. Triggered by her distress, a small genetic coil hidden deep inside Hepsta’s DNA began to unravel and as it did, she felt a powerful wave of strength and confidence wash through her. The strange feeling began at her nose and spread through every whisker and hair until they were all standing on end.

When the change was complete, the Were-Koolie gathered herself and, encouraged by the sudden look of fear on her adversary’s face, launched herself one more time.

It worked. The King Seal was more bluster and blubber than true courage, and the young Koolie had him bluffed.

Hepsta woowoo-ed her victory and called to the birds. By then her fur had flattened back into its usual postion, and she looked quite normal except for a faint spark in her eyes that warned the seal he’d better behave.

Slowly, one by one, the birds assembled around her. All of them were impaired in some way. They relied on scraps from the fishermen as they came in to clean their catches at the pontoon. It seemed the seals had gotten sick of sharing the fish with the invalid birds and decided to exile them to the Island.

It was a tale of greed and treachery unfamiliar to the small Koolie. She felt sad to think such things could happen in her lovely neighbourhood.

It wasn’t easy but Hepsta managed to herd the group onto the boat without too much trouble. Luckily the fishermen had caught many fish that day and were laughing and chatting amongst themselves up the front. None of them would miss a few of the smaller fish, Hepsta decided, as she teased them free of the tubs and tucked them under the tarp with her new friends.

The only trouble on the way back was from Madge. The matronly cormorant with a crooked wing was highly vocal in her fury, and Hepsta had to keep stuffing flathead tails into her beak to keep her quiet.

Hepsta glanced back at the Island occasionally as they headed to the mainland. She’d have loved some more time to explore the coves and rockpools. Perhaps another time…

Hepsta sighed and rested her nose on her paws, suddenly weary but satisfied with the day’s events. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Miss Kali all about her adventure.

She might leave out the bit about the Were-Koolie though. Hepsta wasn’t sure anyone, not even Miss Kali who had a bit of a dark side herself, was ready for that.

THE END

Sorry about the silence at this end. It’s been a crazy few months over the Summer but I’m back and we’re going to talk about world records… And yours truly.

Did you know the oldest dog in the world lived to be over 29 years and 5 months? And he was an Aussie, which has got to be a good omen for me!

I am 1 year and 5 months, so that’s only another 28 years to go.

Most of me has stopped growing, although I’m not totally sure about the ears. Yep, I’m hearing you ask the question and the answer is ‘Biggest doggy ears in the world = 35cm’, so that one’s not in any danger from me, hopefully!

Here are a few more canine World Records and how I stack up against them:

• The world’s heaviest dog was 155kg, in other words almost ten of me!
• The world’s longest dog is 210cm, but from nose to tail tip, I only measure 110cm. 
• The world’s tallest dog was over 111cm tall. I stand 49.5cm high at the withers even on my tip toes. 
• Most tennis balls carried at once = 5. Seriously tho’, why would you bother? One’s enough and that’s only for when there’s no other dogs around.
• Longest tongue – over 40cm. Just think about the places that could get.
• Shortest dog – 15cm long and she fitted in a tea cup
• I could go on. There are records for riding skateboards, catching frisbees, balancing cans on your head, catching balls…

So, it’s clear I’m not breaking any records, at least not until they find a reliable way to measure ‘koolness’.

That said, there is a record for ‘most consecutive treats caught’, I fancy a crack at.

Anyhow, as of last month, I now have an official height recorded on my Agility card, which tells us how high they should set the jumps. I’m not sure how the calculations work; I can jump way higher than they say.

Agility is pretty awesome and I’m starting to get the hang of it but more about that next time.

I can’t run as fast as some of my friends and never will now my legs have stopped growing. But that’s okay, ‘coz I sure can run for a lot longer than most of them, which means I will always catch up.

And my wardrobe finally fits me!

I tried walking once…

And got pretty good at it eventually…

But it was hard work and nothing compares with running. Bet you didn’t know that some dogs can run at over 60km per hour? That’s almost twice the average speed you guys can run and four times the speed my folks can move.

Why are dogs so good at running? Well, there are several reasons. One, we have a strong spine that allows us to stretch out as we run. Some us also have long legs and powerful muscles to help with speed and endurance. In the good old bad days, this was essential for catching the prey that allowed us to survive.

We don’t have collarbones, which means we have greater flexibility and a longer stride for sprinting. And some of us have aerodynamically shaped heads, as long as we remember to pin our ears down.

I will run anywhere but my favourite place to run is at the beach, especially on the sandbanks where I can keep (and look) super cool.

I also like jumping.

By the way, did you know the record for the highest jump by a dog is 172.72cm? That’s 68 inches!

The good news is, I only need to jump 32 inches. Why?

Because that’s the height at which I can ‘counter surf’!

I’m also partial to a bit of leaping.

Quite a lot, in fact… in all directions

And just the occasional bit of pouncing

Longest jump in the world? Over 9 metres, which means I’ve got some serious practising to do.

So as you can see, when it comes to records, I’m pretty ordinary in the dog world but the folks think I’m special and I make the most of that, especially when they have food.

See you soon…

I blame the cat. She broke curfew last night, snuck out after dark, didn’t appear back until dawn and ruined my birthday.

Here’s the scenario. It’s first light, I’ve just jumped up on the folks’ bed to let them know it’s ‘HEPSTA‘ time when Miss Kali appears at the back door shouting to be let in and everyone forgets about me. I know right, how rude.

That’s cats for you.

So, I sit there on the bed all alone, licking my bottom on this very special day that nobody else has remembered, and I’m the one who gets told off!

That’s family for you.

So much has happened since I came to live with the family.  Remember when I was only 6 weeks old?

Some of it you already know… like the time I ate the jellyfish on the beach and spewed blue.

I also got stung twice by the jellies and ended up with my paws in hot water. Literally. People used to say you had to wee on the stings (which sounds okay to me) or soak them in stinky vinegar but it turns out what you have to do is sit with the bits in really hot water. Being a tough Koolie, I was very brave and didn’t whinge or bite at all.

Then I got stung by a bee, which had accidentally ended up in my mouth. And bitten by a few spiders hiding in my best sniffing places. I even had a tick but luckily the chew they give me each month sorted it out before it could do any damage. No snakes yet but I’m always looking!

And all the time that I was exploring the world, things were changing with my body. I already told you about the weird stuff happening to my nose in an earlier blog. Well, then I started to lose my teeth!

That was a bit of a worry but then I grew some better ones.

I went to stay with my pack in the Winter when the folks flew overseas. That was awesome. No baths, loads of running around in the mud. Grandma Envy showed me how to herd ducks, which I later put to good use at my friend Scoutie’s place.

I even got lost in the hen pen by accident. Don’t stress, I didn’t hurt the  cute little chickies but I did scoff my own weight in chook poo!

In the Spring, mum decided I should be dissected. So I didn’t have puppies. Not that I wanted puppies (horrible greedy things always wanting all the food) but it would’ve been nice to be consulted. Anyhow, I foxed her by coming on heat 6 months earlier than anyone else in my family! Which got me out of the dissection but landed me in nappies for almost a month. Luckily, they didn’t taste too bad.

Being on heat turned out to be a total drag because I couldn’t go anywhere where there were dogs. Not even the beach, and that sucked because I’d made quite a few friends by then and needed my daily runs.

It was the most boring 3 weeks of my life. I had all this energy and nowhere to use it, so I daydreamed about Miss Kali being a super villain…

and Super Hep saving the world…

Thwarting Miss Kali’s endless evil plans got pretty tedious after a while. It was my turn to be the baddie!

Two Face Hepsta ruled the world for about a week. With each beach-free day, I grew bolder and more inventive. This eventually landed me in a spot of trouble and my plans for world domination came to a sudden end. It’s hard to keep your super villain street cred when you’ve been smacked and sent to bed without dinner.

Then totally out of the blue, Mum announced that I needed to work off some energy. She said I was old enough to start Agility and began setting up plastic sticks in the garden. She was convinced I’d be a natural.

I wasn’t.

We practised a few of times. There were jumps and a big snakey tunnel. Then some weaving stuff, which I totally ignored on account of it not making sense.

And then one day I went to the real thing down at the Park where there were proper hurdles and guess what! I got a ribbon.

Saturday afternoons at agility are okay but my best times have been at the beach with my friends. I’ve made some and sadly, lost some.

This is me and Jo. As you can see, she was super cool and shared her sticks. Mum let me sit with her at the Hospital when she got really sick.

And that’s my first year in a nutshell. I’ve left out the really smelly bits because they’re mine.

I’m totally up for whatever fun the next year brings and I’ll be sure to share the good stuff with you. Just not the cake!

Hep Hep Hooray!

From the time I arrived, Miss Kali has been watching me. Even when her eyes are closed, even when she’s not in the room, I can feel her staring. Sometimes, I think she can stare with her ears.

Of all the challenges a pup might face in the new home, I reckon that getting on the right side of the resident cat ranks up there with, “how to work out where the Sam Hill I am supposed to piddle” and “why does everyone steal my food”.

Miss Kali was kind of spoiled. She’d had the folks and the house to herself for 4 years before I came along and got it pretty much the way she wanted, right down to the cheek grease on the sofa and random threads plucked from the rugs.

It’s not like dogs weren’t entirely unknown to her. Mum brought sick ones home from time to time and she also got to terrorise the neighbour’s pooch on the rare occasions it strayed into her garden.

Puppies however, were obviously a complete mystery. What she didn’t understand was that I just wanted to be friends. And share her dinner.

I tried EVERYTHING. I brought her my toys, played with her toys, offered the paw of peace, tried speaking cat, cleaned up her litter tray, and tidied away the crumbs on her mat. Often, I just sat quietly near her, wagging my tail, so she knew I was on the side of goodness and niceness.

Nothing worked. Even worse, she stopped staring and began to ignore me. I obviously had to try much harder.

One day, I saw the lolly gobble in action. This was a daily event when the folks hid cat kibble around the house in order to:
1) make Miss Kali burn off calories searching for her food
2) reduce her need to hunt actual living things.

It didn’t work, of course, but it did introduce me to THE POT.

Miss Kali loved the pot… even when it wasn’t lolly gobble time.

It was obviously a special place for my future bestie and so I staked out the pot in the hope that we would find common ground.

Then one day, Miss Kali hid in the pot for 5 hours and somehow I got blamed.

The language barrier seemed insurmountable. Then I caught the folks staring at us one day and chatting about the differences between dogs and cats.

Here’s a crash course on a few of those differences and the lessons I learned.

Why Dogs Don’t Meow…

It seems that Miss Kali and I share a great great great… grandmother. 50 million years ago, Granny Miacis planted a family tree that soon branched into Canidae (that’s me) and Felidae (Miss Kali).

DNA analysis has confirmed that I evolved from gray wolves in  East Asia at least 15,000 years ago. Archaeological evidence suggests people interacted with an even wilder ancestor 400,000 years ago!

No one knows exactly why wolves joined the campfires but I’d say they saw an easy meal. Whatever the case, we have had a long time to get to know and love our human companions.

Cats, on the other hand, were one of the last animals to be domesticated. The Egyptians recognised their value as ratters in 4000 BC. Cats back then were descended from the African Wildcat, or Kaffir cat and treated like Gods. Which explains A LOT!

Those cats eventually migrated across Asia to Europe, and bred with their relative, the European Wildcat. The domestic cat wasn’t officially recognised until 1758.

Lesson 1: Our views on the world and our place in it are quite a bit different. I love all company. Miss Kali prefers it on her terms.

In the wild, us dogs are cursorial hunters and pursue our prey (or tennis ball) over open terrain until it gets tired and then we knock it over. We are omnivores and can eat just about anything.

Cats are ambush hunters, stalking their prey alone, then pouncing. Their bodies are designed for climbing and slinking, and brief bursts of speed when necessary. They have much more specific dietary requirements than us.

Lesson 2a: Miss Kali doesn’t like being chased or licked or barked at.

Lesson 2b: I can have all the dropped peas, spilt soup, bottle caps and whatever else I find on the floor but Miss Kali has first dibs on the meat and biscuits.

With this in mind, I adopted a different approach and went about my own business. There were plenty of other things in the house to play with, even if they didn’t make as many fun noises as Miss Kali.

Strangely, this ‘non’ tactic was the most effective of all and I made an interesting discovery.

Lesson 3: Cats are very curious

Because once I left her alone, Miss Kali began to take an interest.

There was no sudden breakthrough but I knew we were on the right track when Miss Kali ambushed my tail and later let me ‘share’ the sofa.

4 months on, we are almost besties…

Coming next: “Running Free”, where the folks go on holiday and I visit the pack

I was  6 weeks old when I joined the family. Being roughly the size and shape of a guinea pig, it took most of the day and all my energy just to scramble up the stairs. I needed lots of naps.

That soon changed.

Within a fortnight, I was ready to run. The trouble was, there was nowhere to run. Parvovirus, Distemper, Adenovirus. All these deadly bugs were out there waiting to get me. I couldn’t go to the park or the boardwalk or even the shops until my vaccinations were sorted. Mum was totally stubborn about it.

Australia has over 25,000 kilometres of coastline and more than 10,000 beaches.

So, they took me to the beach.

It was way worse than the viruses.

The sand got everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. I couldn’t keep up with the folks and every time another dog came close, they picked me up like I was some kind of princess. But in true Koolie style, I tried to make the best of a bad lot.

Eventually, I got used to the soft sand that trapped my paws and made me fall over. Then they tried making me go in the water!

That was hideous.

We went to the beach every morning before work and sometimes afterwards too. The folks seemed determined to torture me.

By a happy accident, I discovered digging

And weed!

One fantastic day, I suddenly realised the beach was covered with loads of tasty treats!

It was a crazy salty snack fest and I went suitably beserk.

I immediately formulated Plan A. Eat everything!

I came up with Plan B soon afterwards. Or rather, it came up… in a big pile all over the sand!

So I worked out that some things were there to be eaten and others were there to roll on.

Once my jabs were sorted, we started going to other beaches

I made some friends…

Recent storms had battered our local beaches and eroded the sand. The strong surf carved it into new shapes each day. I honed my leaping and parcour skills on the ever-shifting dunes.

The soft landings made me fearless, if not exactly graceful…

The weather wasn’t always tops but after a while it didn’t matter. I just loved being out there.

Not so long ago, Dad introduced me to tennis balls. Seemed he thought I should run around more than him. Quite a LOT more than him

Once is fun, two times okay, three throws is totally boring. If he wants it that much, let him fetch it.

That said, now I’m a bit more mature, there is something irresistible about the little yellow ball.

Three months later and I am totally hooked. Gosh the folks have gotten slow though!

Coming next: “Potheads” aka “How Me and Miss Kali learned to get along”

“One pup’s rant against the food police… and the cat”

with a bit of help from Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’

The Hepsta Rap

to hear EMINEM’s beat as you read, click the play button:

Hey, if you got, one shot, or one opportunity
To eat anything you ever wanted. In one moment
Would you swallow it, or just let it sit?
Yo

My mouth is dribbly, eyes big, belly’s empty
There’s drool on the carpet already, mum’s forgetted me
I’m starving, totally craving what’s around to scoff down,
But she keeps on forgetting that I’m half grown,
The whole room smells so good
I open my mouth, but the snacks won’t come down
I’m scrounging now, everybody’s lounging how
The cat jumps up, she steals, my meal, Ho!
Damn, it’s a travesty. Oh, there goes Miss Kali
Oh, there goes kitty, she choked
She’s so hacked, she’s a fat greedy cat
Victory, no
I won’t have it, she know it’s not hers, it’s my stash
It’s not crack or some hash
Just give me a mo
I’ll make sure that she knows
When she goes back to her feeding mat, that’s when I’ll
Get my own back again, yo
This cruel parody
I’d better go gobble her dinner and hope I don’t miss it

 Don’t give me heat for what I eat, heart sure can’t beat
on the junk you eat, I’ve got eyes, seen the fries and fat
Yo heard you say, pass the mayo to go with that!
Got to grow not go slow, just one shot to fill my gut,
Don’t give me heat for what I eat, heart sure can’t beat
on the junk you eat, I’ve got eyes, seen the fries and fat
Yo heard you say, pass the mayo to go with that!
Got to grow not go slow, just one shot to fill my gut

My nose sniffs out all the stuff that is dropping
This world is mine for the gobbling
Mopping the floor, as family starts squabbling
There’s crumbs on the floor, but hunger’s like a torture
Looking for more, momma should of thoughta
My bowl. They all forgot. The responsibility
Is on me, I’m out to slaughter,
all morsels I’ve caught in the corners
It’s known in this home, there’s no order
It’s dinner time and there’s nothing in the larder
But hold your nose ’cause I just got desperate
Sifted the litter, sucked up Kali’s chocolates
Then moved on to the next room with it
Chewed shoes and gulped water
Threw it all up just like the doctor ordered
Time to stand taller and eat it all over again!

You can eat anything you set your teeth to, pup

Get over it, I hoovered it

Coming next: “Life’s a Beach” for so many reasons

Today I’m going to talk about noses, and more specifically about my nose.

They’re totally amazing things for all sorts of reasons.

Everyone knows we have a great sense of smell and you know what they say… the bigger the nose, the more we can smell.

Bulldogs got the short straw and bloodhounds hit the jackpot. Us Koolies are somewhere there in the middle.

Interesting Factoids and Weird Science

Dogs can sniff out all sorts of things from drugs and explosives, to cancer and bedbugs. Some of my amazing canine cousins can track a missing person days after they disappeared or smell drugs hidden in tanks of petrol.

Me, I can detect poo of all varieties at twenty paces.

So, how do we do it?

To start with, we can detect just a few molecules of a particular odour in a trillion parts of air, even if there are much stronger odours present. In simple terms, if you can smell a bad apple in your pantry, we can smell it in a supermarket. This is partly because of the way we inhale the air and mostly to do with the way we are built.

We are crazy sniffing machines and can sniff up to 5 times a second. Then, instead of all the air heading straight to our lungs like it does in people,  our nasal passages direct at least a tenth of it to the olfactory receptors responsible for smelling stuff.

Our noses have something close to 300 million olfactory receptors. You have about 6 million. And, I don’t mean to boast but the part of our brain responsible for processing the smells is 40 times bigger than yours.

There are a few more tricks up our sleeves. Some tracker dogs have large floppy ears, which supposedly helps flap smells towards their nose. And we have specially designed nostrils to help suck in more air and swirl the smells around when we breathe out. We can even tell which nostril detected the smell and work out which direction it came from. Our wet noses help trap the scent molecules too.

Ever wondered why we sniff each other’s backsides?

Well, aside from the fact that we love smelly things, it is the best way of getting to know one another.

We are searching for pheromones, chemical cues, that tell us everything about the dog in front of us, from its gender and reproductive status, to who’s bossy and who’s there to be bossed. There’s no faking pheromones, so it’s an accurate and very honest way of speed dating.

We use this neat thing called a vomeronasal organ to detect the pheromones. You’ve probably seen other animals using it. They lift their lips and open their mouths a bit. This is called the Flehmen Response and works by forcing air through the mouth to the vomeronasal organ.

Miss Kali does it too; that’s why she sits there sometimes with her mouth hanging open when Mum comes home in her work clothes. Her brother, Mr Shenzi, does it all the time, which is why his family think he’s a bit dim.

Do you remember when you were growing up and checking yourself out in the mirror each day to see whether you were going to get the cute nose of the family or grandpa’s huge hooky snout?

Well, it’s even more of a lottery in dogs nowadays because of all those interesting breeds out there.

Check out these pics. Notice something interesting about my nose… aside from it getting way bigger?

You got it. My nose is changing colour.

Mum wishes it was totally black on account of the strong sun over here and the risk of sunburn and skin cancer. I’m not too bothered. It’s usually covered with sand or dirt and 50 shades of grey anyway.

Here’s the really cool bit. The colour is because of pigment cells called melanocytes. These form in my spinal cord while I’m just an embryo and then migrate along the nerves to my skin. Once they arrive, they form a black patch, which grows larger as the cells multiply. If they don’t reach where they’re going by the time I’m born, they may not get there at all and that area stays pink (or white if it’s a hairy bit).

A couple of health snippets from Mum to finish off.

1) A hot dry nose isn’t necessarily a sign of sickness, and poorly dogs can have cold wet noses.

2) Noses can change colour in adult dogs for simple reasons but may indicate disease and should always be checked out by your vet.

I love my nose but it can get me into trouble…

Coming next: “Rapsta” in which I perform ‘The Hepsta Rap’ for the first time in public

And welcome to my blog

Over the coming months I’m going to tell you a bit about my  adventures growing up in semi-rural Australia and share some cool facts about why us pups do the things we do…

My folks named me ‘Hepburn’ after Audrey and Katherine.

You remember them, right? ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s‘, ‘The African Queen‘? Glamorous stars of the silver screen famous for their style, beauty and character?

Yeah, thought not. My folks are kind of old and out of touch.

I have nothing in common with those talented ladies so I am going to focus on just being me.

What I do have is a pedigree.  I am a 100% pure Australian Koolie, with papers and all. Never heard of a Koolie before? Well, we are pretty awesome.

The jury is out on exactly how we came about but like all ‘pure-breeds’, we are a combination of other breeds. According to Wikipedia, some German Tiger dogs and Collies brought over to Australia in the 1800’s to herd sheep ‘got together’ on their tea breaks and we are the result. A huge step forward for dogkind, I reckon.

Now, I’ve no idea what a sheep is. I’m just a 15 week old puppy after all and live in a house on a street. But the instincts run deep and I will try to round up anything I meet, on two legs or four.

Except Miss Kali… I only tried it once with her.

The really cool thing about Koolies is that we were bred to work, not parade around show rings with crazy haircuts and win ribbons you can’t even eat. This means we vary a bit from state to state, depending on which stock we have been raised to herd. No one cares how tall we grow, how straight our noses are, or even how big our ears get (luckily for me)!

We come in a range of colours. Most of my brothers and sisters were solids but I am a black merle, the coolest colour obviously. Black, brown, slate, white, it’s all there on me somewhere. Oh, and one blue and one brown eye just for the fun of it.

Check out my pics. Apologies for the quality. Most are a bit blurry at the moment ‘coz I’m usually on the move. My friend Tess is helping me out. She’s really patient and knows how to aim a camera. And she’s got a pocket full of treats.

Mum says Koolies are one of the most genetically healthy breeds in the world. She’s a vet and knows lots of interesting stuff about dogs, which I’ll try to get right and share as we go along. She’s also a bit of a tyrant with the training and endless rules but that’s okay as long as the food keeps coming. Did I mention I really like eating stuff? And it doesn’t even have to be food.

Dad says I look like a badger. He’s English and hasn’t had a puppy since he was five, so I try to be understanding when he gets mad over the trivial stuff. He’s gradually working out that ‘no’ is the new ‘yes’ and coming to terms with his place in the pack.

Miss Kali doesn’t say anything at all. She’s kinda scary and is well into the crazy cat staring thing, especially at night. Don’t tell Miss Kali I  said so, but Mum reckons she’s too fat, so I’m currently helping her out by hoovering up the ‘left-overs’ on her mat, and in her bowls, and the cupboard… I reckon she’d be way skinnier if she just played with me once in a while but all my attempts at making friends have failed. For a fat lazy cat, she sure moves fast when she feels like it though. She’s got a lightning right hook!

Life’s great around here. We have loads of interesting wildlife like wallabies, bandicoots, possums and bats in the garden. Which of course means loads of interesting poo (more about that in later posts).

The beaches are long and empty and crammed full of all the snacks a growing pup could ever need. We have the cleanest water for miles around and all sorts of cool marine life. I haven’t seen the whales yet (they come in September) but the dolphins and seals hang around all year and play off shore. We also have an island! I’m not too sure about the surf yet but the sand is seriously good fun.

Plus I get to go to work each day with the folks. The animal hospital where they work is great. Stacks of scrumptious smells and always someone new on the block. I’ll give you a guided tour sometime!

I’ve been living with this family for 2 months now. Most of the time I’m kept busy getting the house and garden the way I like it. It’s a full-time gig but sometimes when the family’s distracted by the goggle box, I just chill with the monkey and make confetti.

No one calls me Hepburn anymore; it just doesn’t fit.

I get Hep, grubby pup and, sometimes, when I finally fall asleep and they think I can’t hear them, poppet.

But you homies, you can call me Hepsta!

Coming next: “Nobody Knows the Trouble I Nose” in which I take a close look at one of my favourite body parts