Ooroo the Kangaroo

A combination of - warm drink of 'roo potion'; a hot water bottle wrapped in a fluffy towel; being tucked into a hanging jumper on a chair back in front of 'old faithful' (my wood stove), and several more 'roo potions' throughout the night - found Ooroo alive and clicking very early next morning.

He willingly accepted his cuddles, calories, and 'come out' from his artificial pouch, but the thing he really sought and adored was Candy's clean-up of his face and chest. A routine was established that first day...a ritual. Candy would wash Ooroo, and then Ooroo would hold Candy's face with his delicate little paws and lick off surplus droplets of milk clinging to her whiskers.

They talked to each other constantly - he with clicks, her with small whines and soft 'woofs'. I was 'mother' to both, and an essential part of their well-being and love - and they were 'siblings', no matter their genetics.

Ooroo grew in strength, health and confidence, and my two sweet babies began their intrepid exploits. They started innocently enough. The long wooden verandah was an adventure in itself for Ooroo, and the two steps down provided a challenge. But Candy showed him her version of navigation, and he learnt his translation - one large jump!

And now, bright new vistas opened up to our Ooroo. Candy taught him the questionable delights of visiting pigs, goats, lambs and emus. And because Candy followed me to our outside 'loo', and outside 'wash-house' (laundry) and generator room, he learned the ins-and-outs and horrors (in relative order) of these rooms, too.

Inevitably, Candy decided that Ooroo should learn to traverse paddocks and their necessary fences. Candy was adept at passing through ringlock with a 'nose forward, twist of the body, flip the back legs through' action. Unfortunately, Ooroo's body design was somewhat different. He could poke his head and front legs through, but couldn't achieve the essential 'twist'.

I watched this happening from a distance, with neither participant aware of my existence, and was entertained and deeply moved by their actions. Candy would perform her manoeuvre and 'woof' on the other side of the fence. Then Ooroo would try all types of twists of his body - fail - worry - withdraw and click -and worry some more. So Candy would once again, ever so patiently, go through the entire routine ...and again...and again.

Finally, unbelievably, Ooroo mastered the technique, to be greeted by loud, exuberant barks from his 'mentor', and enthusiastic licking rewards to his face. He clicked joyously, and the pair took off to explore the 200 acre (80 hectare) paddock.

And now a new challenge was mine! If Candy and Ooroo weren't within shouting distance by late afternoon, I needed to hop into our VW station wagon to go search the paddocks. Sooner, or more often later, I would see two familiar shapes in the distance. When they caught sight or sound of the car approaching, they would stop in their tracks and wait patiently for their 'taxi' to escort them home!

I would pull up alongside them and reproach them for their naughtiness - and inevitably be answered by many licks and clicks. With the back hatch open and a few snaps of my fingers, in they would both jump, to ride home for tea - each in their own way telling me full details of this latest adventure.

And just when I thought I had seen everything, my pair of rogues almost gave me a nervous breakdown. Some 70kms away, at our nearest drive-in theatre, a film I had longed to see was showing on the Saturday night. We had organised the entire day to be able to treat ourselves and actually go and see 'a movie'. But, my intrepid pair chose this very auspicious occasion to go a-wandering, and like Bo-peep, 'I didn't know where to find them'.

I was desperate. Here were my babies gone missing, and at the same time, my first chance to see just one of the films I'd been missing so badly, for so long. After fruitless hours of searching until it was dark, the men finally convinced me there was nothing more to be done for my babies this night, and I reluctantly agreed to go to the film.

At the half-way interval, we went to the Snack bar, and amongst many other conversations, overheard a critical one, and I repeat it (almost verbatim!)

"Jeez, tonight I saw everything! We're driving along this road, right? And in our lights there's this goddamn 'roo - a little 'un. Yeh well, that's not so unusual, but this one's got a mate trotting alongside - a little yellow dog! So I figger they'll take off, right? Nope! The little buggers just stop and stare at the lights, blinking lots - but they don't take off, right? So jeez, I stops. I opens the bloody door and gets out to have a look. What do you reckon the little buggers do? They jump into the car, sit up on the front seat and wait to be goddamned sho-furr-driven somewhere, don't they? Tell you what mate, I was spooked! Damnedest thing I've ever seen. And they're home now in cages, both whimpering and clicking and I'm buggered if I know what I'm going to do with them".

I fought my way through the throng to reach the saviour of my babies, and to explain the inexplicable. I'm still not sure who was more relieved, but certainly it wasn't my 'sho-furr' husband, when he found out he had to take me 20kms even further away from home to collect my little loves - after the movie.

But even he weakened when he saw the tumultuous welcome the babies gave, at the sound of my voice. And the further disbelief on the face of the 'rescuer' was a treat, when I opened the cages and my 'darling daring duo' rushed out, not off to the wide-open spaces, but instead into the arms of their 'Mum'.