CHEMICAL WARFARE
In the early 1990s, I was awakened one morning by one of my farm workers.
He carefully handed me his folded bush hat. When I opened the hat, there was a baby mongoose inside.
And so, our adventures with Loopy began.
She was too precious, growing up as part of the family. A friendly, playful little thing.
The Boerboel, Bruno, and the Daschund, Chappies, were her greatest companions.
Despite many warnings about the mongoose's infamous weapon, I dismissed them as usual.
Loopy never used her chemical arsenal. In fact, I thought she had forgotten that she possessed such a thing.
A good friend of mine, Dirk, visited one Saturday afternoon. Dirk's greatest loves were Red Heart Rum, followed by firearms. (Does anyone know Dirk? Sounds like he was in Charlie Company).
He brought an old shotgun, the type with still having hammers. We sat on the yellowwood strap bench on the porch.
Loopy, as usual, lay peacefully on her cushion on top of the bench, fast asleep. Dirk wanted to test the shotgun with AAA cartridges.
I stopped him and gave him 2 blank cartridges. He loaded the gun, pulled the hammers back, and pressed the trigger.
Absolutely nothing happened. He did it three or four times, and the gun still wouldn't fire. I then went inside to get our liquid refreshments.
While I was away, Dirk loaded the shotgun again, this time with buckshot cartridges. We chatted peacefully as Dirk aimed at the zinc roof, pulled the triggers, and chaos ensued.
The fact that he shot a hole in the zinc roof was the least of our problems. Things happened at lightning speed.
Loopy rose with a horrifying scream, spun around like a top, and activated her chemical weapon in the highest degree. It was terrible.
When the first whiff hit me, I involuntarily dived over the porch wall, hitting the ground face-first. Bruno, the Boerboel, jumped up and ran yelping against the porch wall.
At the same time, he got a massive attack of "gippo-guts." Chappies, the Daschund, performed a perfect pirouette, followed by a backward somersault that would have won him a gold medal at any Olympic Games.
Dirk shockedly jumped up, slipped on Bruno's dung, and hit the cement floor with a dull thud. He then quickly rappelled down the stairs. Dirk, I, and the two dogs regrouped in a state of total, absolute shock on the lawn.
People, the person who can articulate that stench on paper has not been born yet. It was indescribable. It smelled as if every sweat gland you had turned into a dead rat.
We stood on the lawn in shock and disbelief. Tears of indignation and self-pity rolled down our cheeks
The dogs trembled and shook so much that I expected them to collapse at any moment. They were too scared to take enough breath to howl.
My wife opened the door and immediately slammed it shut again. She threw two coveralls and a block of soap through the window in our direction, making it clear that we would not enter the house until we washed off the stench.
At that point, Loopy, with her characteristic cute trot, came down the stairs to see what the commotion was about. The dogs, frightened and whimpering, tails between their legs, chose the path to the sheep pen.
It was the first time in my life that I saw a Boerboel move just as fast, if not faster, than a Greyhound.
Dirk and I quickly climbed the Acacia tree. Loopy, thankfully, turned around and resumed her afternoon nap on the bench. We then, rather hastily, moved to the zinc dam to wash off the stench.
It was winter in Standerton. The water was just above freezing point. We didn't care. We plunged in and started washing immediately. It didn't help much.
I think a sewage plant like "Old Spice" deodorant would have smelled better in comparison.
The dogs, somewhat wary of water, instinctively realized that if they wanted to survive, they would also have to bathe. So, they jumped into the dam too.
After washing and getting dressed, we wanted to enter the house. The Riller, whom I was married to at that time, absolutely refused.
James, who worked in the garden, gathered the clothes we had worn during the attack, soaked them in diesel, and set them on fire.
We decided to sleep in the shearing shed. Armed with a sack of logs, a small braai, a pack of sausages, and a bottle of mampoer, we made ourselves at home in the shed.
It was a sad and unforgettable night. If the cold didn't keep us awake, it was the stench or the dogs' nightmares about the day's events.
Early the next morning, we jumped into the zinc dam again. This time, it helped.
Thankfully, Loopy never again used her chemical weapon until her passing.
I, Dirk, and the dogs, until the end, regarded her with a new respect, coupled with a deadly fear...
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