RESERVOIR DOGS

OR THE REAL TRUE STORY BEHIND THE REZZADENT’S CONCEPTION

Words & Photos

By Shannon McKeogh

Just after the first lockdown in Melbourne, we moved north: to middle-suburbia, our first house and a new neighbourhood. We swapped apartment living and proximity to the city for a place with two bedrooms, a small patch of grass and a 30-year bank loan.

We unpacked our boxes, but something was missing – that sense of home, of feeling grounded, a part of something. A part of what exactly? I didn’t know, but I needed to find out. I conscientiously asked a local Facebook group how to meet people and be involved in the community.

Someone replied, “Get a dog, you’ll make friends in no time.” I didn’t mean to take their advice literally. But a week after moving in, we found ourselves the new pup parents of a black and tan sausage dog named Ernie. Ernie, at the time, was sweet, shy and didn’t like sleeping. Luckily, I was working from home, so sleep deprivation could be hidden behind a fun Zoom filter.

Nobody could see that I was often multitasking: cleaning up wee and poo underneath my desk, or being forced to play tug-of-war. Now that I lived near a park, I could take Ernie out for walks during lunchbreaks. It wasn’t hard to chat to strangers when I had a little puppy at my feet.

Soon we met Kujo, the miniature schnauzer who’d become Ernie’s best friend. Then there was Roman, the Weimaraner; Dexter, a ball-obsessed Jack Russell; Bella, a posh Pomeranian; Sapphire, a bitzer rescue; Tilly, the speedy greyhound; Hugo, the beefy labrador- cross-dalmatian; and Carlos, the black and white staffy who would run non-stop with a ball in his mouth.

Ernie would sniff tentatively at the sidelines, or hide behind my feet, before sometimes venturing in for a play. Eventually I learned the names of the dogs’ owners, although it is much harder when no-one is calling them out repeatedly, and they don’t wear nametags on their collars. During the longest of lockdowns, come 5pm you were guaranteed that someone would be at the park and up for a chat. We discussed our workdays, and what we were cooking for dinner. We also talked a lot about our dogs, who didn’t seem to be bothered by staying at home at all.

While Ernie was selective about who she befriended (and some people were only interested in Ernie and not me), I did make some genuine friendships with the dog park parents. The dog park parents and I found creative ways to be active during lockdown, whether that be rollerblading in the park or to the milk bar to get an ice cream, foraging for local produce such as cumquats to make marmalade to gift to other neighbours, or baking each other delicious treats.

Best of all was that the dog park, and the connections I made with others, gave me the confidence to start The Rezzadent, a local newspaper run by volunteers who live in and love Reservoir, or “Rezza” as it’s fondly known.

Some of the first contributors to the monthly publication were friends from the dog park. Ernie even started her own advice column, ‘Dear Ernie’, before realising she was too lazy to give advice, so we expanded to ‘Dear Reservoir Dogs’, written by a different dog (or cat) each issue to help locals through their problems.

We have now lived in Reservoir for three years –two of which were a bit of a blur. The Rezzadent continues to run, although bi-monthly, and recently won an award at the Darebin Community Awards. We regularly hang out with dog park friends, whether that be going out for dinner, having barbecues at each other’s houses, tenpin bowling or trivia. This year we are also going to two different weddings (of Roman and Kujo’s respective parents), and Carlos’ mum has recently announced she’s having a baby.

So I can now confidently say that I am a local, and that’s thanks to one small, stubborn sausage dog named Ernie who helped us meet and create our own little community during some of the toughest times we have faced in Melbourne. How to win friends and influence people? Get a dog.

This story was first published in The Big Issue, edition #692.