Henry sputtered. “I haven’t said a word—”
“Bit shy with the ladies, is our Dash,” Dingo confided to Diana. She giggled again and wiggled in her chair as if she could barely contain her delight. Of course, Diana wiggling was merely the motion of shifting in her
10 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy
chair once or twice. But for Diana, it was practically akin to standing and breaking into a wild, bohemian Charleston.
Once in the hallway, Henry tried to pull his arm free, but Dingo was a bit sturdier than he and didn’t let go so easily. “Where the fuck—”
“Blimey! You do have a mouth on you after all,” Dingo said
admiringly, and Henry was embarrassed to feel a flush of gratification at the praise. “Tell me, got a bottle in your office?”
“A…a bottle… of what?”
“Grog, mate. Booze. I need to wash the flavor of that tea from my mouth. It’s a fretful taste, Dash.”
“My name isn’t Dash, and I don’t have a bottle,” Henry disclaimed, although he actually did have a little nip stashed away in a certain locked drawer.
“I guess it’s the local for us then, Dash.”
Henry succeeded in freeing his arm at last. “I’m not going anywhere with you, not the pub nor Australia. This is my project, and I’m doing it on my own.”
“Right you are, and I’m going with you.” Dingo grinned. “Call yourself the head of the expedition if you like, but you’d play hob without me. Think you’ve only got to stroll up to Tassie’s home and knock on the door? ‘Come on in, Dash, and have a cuppa’, they’ll say, right before they have you for their tea.”
“Of course I don’t think that,” Henry sputtered. “For one thing, the thylacines do not eat people. But surely—”
“Don’t call me Shirley, call me Dingo,” the other man urged. “And are you certain they don’t? Anyhoo, if you’ve any humanity in you, show me to the nearest pub. I’m dry as a desert.”
“Fine, I’ll show you where it is, but I’m not coming in with you,”
Henry said with a sinking feeling that Dingo wouldn’t hesitate to drag him inside by main force. He opened the door and stepped out into the pouring rain for his second soaking of the day.
Dash and Dingo: In Search of the Tasmanian Tiger | 11
An hour and several pints later, Henry was both fascinated and furious with Dingo.
“So you Brits come to Australia with your hounds, and it stands to reason that a few of them run off into the bush. I mean, you already did it to us with the rabbits, didn’t you? A few years later and feral dogs are roaming the countryside, terrorizing wildlife and livestock alike, and everyone blames poor Tassie. So it’s really your fault the thylacine are so rare, and by rights you ought to do something about it.”
“I know all that, not that I’m taking personal responsibility for the dogs,” Henry retorted. “And I was planning to do something about it, I just want it clear that if the college funds this expedition, I will be in charge.”
“What are you planning to do?” Dingo challenged before commenting,
“Good ale, but warm.”
Henry ignored this sally. “The zoo in Hobart has the last known remaining thylacine. If we were able to find a small pocket, even a family, or at least a male and female, then we could bring them all back to London to start a breeding program—”
“And why London?” Dingo interjected. “Why not keep them in their own land?”
“The London Zoo has one of the most scientific and prestigious reputations in the world.” Henry tried to be as tactful as possible. “No offense, but even Gordon Austin has said that your zoos cannot measure up, as they are slightly primitive—”
“Primitive?” Dingo bristled.
“You know what I mean,” Henry said quickly. “And if you are as committed to the survival of the tigers as I am, then you have to admit the zoo here is more capable—”
12 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy
As if not wanting to have to admit to
“Bit shy with the ladies, is our Dash,” Dingo confided to Diana. She giggled again and wiggled in her chair as if she could barely contain her delight. Of course, Diana wiggling was merely the motion of shifting in her
10 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy
chair once or twice. But for Diana, it was practically akin to standing and breaking into a wild, bohemian Charleston.
Once in the hallway, Henry tried to pull his arm free, but Dingo was a bit sturdier than he and didn’t let go so easily. “Where the fuck—”
“Blimey! You do have a mouth on you after all,” Dingo said
admiringly, and Henry was embarrassed to feel a flush of gratification at the praise. “Tell me, got a bottle in your office?”
“A…a bottle… of what?”
“Grog, mate. Booze. I need to wash the flavor of that tea from my mouth. It’s a fretful taste, Dash.”
“My name isn’t Dash, and I don’t have a bottle,” Henry disclaimed, although he actually did have a little nip stashed away in a certain locked drawer.
“I guess it’s the local for us then, Dash.”
Henry succeeded in freeing his arm at last. “I’m not going anywhere with you, not the pub nor Australia. This is my project, and I’m doing it on my own.”
“Right you are, and I’m going with you.” Dingo grinned. “Call yourself the head of the expedition if you like, but you’d play hob without me. Think you’ve only got to stroll up to Tassie’s home and knock on the door? ‘Come on in, Dash, and have a cuppa’, they’ll say, right before they have you for their tea.”
“Of course I don’t think that,” Henry sputtered. “For one thing, the thylacines do not eat people. But surely—”
“Don’t call me Shirley, call me Dingo,” the other man urged. “And are you certain they don’t? Anyhoo, if you’ve any humanity in you, show me to the nearest pub. I’m dry as a desert.”
“Fine, I’ll show you where it is, but I’m not coming in with you,”
Henry said with a sinking feeling that Dingo wouldn’t hesitate to drag him inside by main force. He opened the door and stepped out into the pouring rain for his second soaking of the day.
Dash and Dingo: In Search of the Tasmanian Tiger | 11
An hour and several pints later, Henry was both fascinated and furious with Dingo.
“So you Brits come to Australia with your hounds, and it stands to reason that a few of them run off into the bush. I mean, you already did it to us with the rabbits, didn’t you? A few years later and feral dogs are roaming the countryside, terrorizing wildlife and livestock alike, and everyone blames poor Tassie. So it’s really your fault the thylacine are so rare, and by rights you ought to do something about it.”
“I know all that, not that I’m taking personal responsibility for the dogs,” Henry retorted. “And I was planning to do something about it, I just want it clear that if the college funds this expedition, I will be in charge.”
“What are you planning to do?” Dingo challenged before commenting,
“Good ale, but warm.”
Henry ignored this sally. “The zoo in Hobart has the last known remaining thylacine. If we were able to find a small pocket, even a family, or at least a male and female, then we could bring them all back to London to start a breeding program—”
“And why London?” Dingo interjected. “Why not keep them in their own land?”
“The London Zoo has one of the most scientific and prestigious reputations in the world.” Henry tried to be as tactful as possible. “No offense, but even Gordon Austin has said that your zoos cannot measure up, as they are slightly primitive—”
“Primitive?” Dingo bristled.
“You know what I mean,” Henry said quickly. “And if you are as committed to the survival of the tigers as I am, then you have to admit the zoo here is more capable—”
12 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy
As if not wanting to have to admit to
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