When I started this online rag a few locals hinted that there should be a gossip section or “skinner hoekie”.
They figured that small town gossip had graduated to a national sport thanks to this period of forced isolation, so spreading the odd rumour could ultimately help to increase the readership and advertising base. It’s not like the mainstream media never allows a few facts get in the way of a good story, am I right? And there is definitely plenty of skinner news in Barrydale.
Then again, if you read any of the articles that have been published on News62, you will know that it’s more about telling good stories than focusing on the He Said/She Said and just exactly how many Jägermeisters Shawn had in the Dung Beetle Bar last night.
I also thought it would be nearly impossible to compete with some of the full-time blabbermouths who clearly have nothing better to do with their time. I subsequently decided to start this satire column as a tribute to my best friend Karoolus who passed away this week.
Karoolus translates into “lust” or “passion” for the Karoo. This first entry is obviously a tad on the sad side, but I figured; what sort of a journalist would I be had I left such a beautiful story untold.
Goodbye Karoolus, you were the best boy
Late Monday afternoon I received a message from my neighbour, Doggy-mommy, that will haunt me for the rest of my life. She had taken Karoolus with her on their afternoon walk. Karoolus often joined the rescue squad (Zappa, Misty, Cindy and Milly) for walkies and dinner. He even stole their tennis balls and buried their teddy bears when they weren’t looking.
Doggy-mommy’s message was followed by a call from good friend and local farmer Gawie who simply said “Mike, we need to talk”.
Strangely, Bob Dylan was still stuck in my car following our Sunday Saloon shenanigans and as I drove to the vet, Bob told me that a long black cloud was coming down and that he felt like he was knocking on heaven’s door. It was the first poetic moment of an otherwise gut-wrenching afternoon in the Klein Karoo.
When I entered Dr Pearson’s practice, the look in Gawie’s eyes confirmed that I was going to bid farewell to my best friend, my companion. Yes, my number one bra who was my anchor through some extremely rough seas over the last five years.
Doggy-mommy was in a state of panic and the scene reminded me of something out of a movie. Then my journalistic instinct got the better of me and I had to take a photo of my pup while Dr Pearson tried to save his life. It reminded me of the very first hard news story I covered in 2005. In that instance a high school kid had to be airlifted to hospital following a car crash.
The teenager did not make it, and despite Dr Pearson’s best efforts, neither did Karoolus.
It was Gawie’s bakkie that hit my dog on that dirt road and while I’m dealing with the What Ifs and the Had I Onlys, I realized two very important things.
1) My dog was in the presence of two of the kindest humans I’ve ever met (and the magnificent rescue squad) when he left this world. Doggy-mommy should soon receive saint status for the number of animals she has saved over the years, whilst anyone who knows Gawie knows that he is in fact gaaf – a kind gentle giant with a tiny heart. Guys, I love you both and I’m so sorry that you are also hurting because of this freak accident.
2) I am blessed to have a huge network of extremely caring people in my life, or as the owner of the Bistro Blues who recently experienced a far greater loss, puts it: “Barrydale is ‘n baie mooi plek, maar dit is sy mense en die manier hoe hulle omgee wat van hom die beste plek in die land maak.”
*Thanks to everyone for all the calls, messages and hugs over the last few days
