By six months of age Dora no longer seemed to be a pup. She was quite mature, a young adult. Her head and expression were that of an adult, her beautiful dark eyes looked steadfastly into mine with an inscrutable depth of understanding, equality, and love.Although she no longer hid from strangers, no doubt since I had made a practice of encouraging her to accept the attention of others, she did not like to be caught. She always made sure she had an 'escape' route, paranoid about feeling trapped or cornered. She loved travelling in the car and with her head out of the window, revelled in the passing scenery, a part of the action but secure in the vehicle.
As part of her socialising, I led her through towns and shopping complexes.
All strangers were treated with utmost caution, and we never referred to Dora as a Dingo. It was highly illegal to keep a Dingo in the early 1970s, and I had no supportive body to turn to should I be openly challenged by the Pastures Protection Board. I did my best to disguise her and when we went out, she wore a little rug. Only her little head protruding from one end and little tail the other gave any indication as to our secret.
Then one day when we were making our way through a very busy town a little old man, hands on hips, eyes bulging in disbelief he said, "That's a bloody Dingo". Well, I grabbed up my beautiful Dora and ran back down the street to the car park. After that first shock, I was always ready for such remarks with a cheeky "Only looks that way mate'', and it worked every time.
Although Dora had responded well to training by six months of age, I had not endeavoured to take her to official training classes with other dogs and owners until I felt we both had the confidence to adapt. It would also mean I would have to declare her as a Dingo if I was to retain the respect of any Club I joined. On all sides, I was constantly reminded that my Dingo would be baited, that I would be prosecuted, even sent to gaol. It was only in later years I learned that some threats were very real indeed. As plans to prosecute me were almost ready to execute, the Premier of NSW the Hon. Neville Wran accepted our Society's invitation to support us as a Patron. We had in all innocence, played a trump card.
As our colony grew, every morning when our Dingoes went outside, we would comb the grounds for anything that looked like a bait.
Dora was so reliable; I was able to allow her to run off lead around the home paddocks. She particularly liked it when Bern was moving cattle and always joined him, keeping the herd together. This was excellent at times, but if the job in hand was to split the mob or cut one out then her 'help' became a problem. Where the Cattle Dogs heeled very low when required, when Dora wanted to assert herself, she bit higher. However, she did herd well and being obedience trained, was controllable.
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