The toot is hard to pick from the squeaky sound New Boy emits when he really wants to bark, but hardly anything comes out except a high-pitched... well, toot.
The Boss told me the V/Line mob have finished their track works so the new VLocity trains can run again, and they started on the November 24, when they said they would.
It's handy to have them back for a food-focussed dog, because the cute toot of the early train – which comes past my stretch of river around 5.30 – means that a spot of morning nourishment is not that far away.
But it’s a bit far away. The blackbirds have been at it for a while by then, before the cockatoos fire up, which is a sign for the rufous whistler to furiously weigh in (although he’s hard to hear above the din).
Then the thrush and the galahs wake up, followed by the magpies, and I can tell The Boss has stirred but he’ll be checking out the news before he gets up.
The next train comes past around a quarter to seven, and therein lies cause for canine celebration: that’s the cue for a morning romp – and breakfast follows like night follows day.
I insisted The Boss try it out – the new deal is $10 all the way to Melbourne and back, which is a lot cheaper than going by dog-sled – and I told him I wouldn’t mind a shot at it myself. At the very least, I’d get my breakfast earlier than usual.
So off he went earlier this week, and he seemed quite pleased with V/Line’s behaviour.
Being out here on the river he had booked his seats online and paid for them from the comfort of his lounge chair, with my sloppy chops on his knee – but he had to call in to the station to collect his tickets anyway, which seems a bit backward in these times when you can get a baby elephant delivered to the door by Amazon, along with a bag of chaff.
But he said the ride was noticeably smoother and it arrived on time in both directions. There was none of that yawing and wobble around Wallan, where a goods train derailed a few years ago, although it slowed down over Hughes Creek and a few other patches.
It turns out that there is more work to be done. The conductor told him there was another shutdown planned between March and May next year. After that, so the word goes, the nine daily services should start.
He thinks it’s worth the wait. The $10 return fare is a gift; it may not last but he plans to take advantage of it. Getting a car park in the centre of Melbourne for the day can be $80 now, let alone the cost of fuel and the wear on the car.
That doesn’t help me, though. He reported that I am not welcome on the train, unless I’m a guide dog, a hearing guide dog, a guide dog in training or a hound identified by an Assistance Animal Pass, which you’d reckon he could get for me by pulling some strings if he tried.
Small dogs can be carried in a “suitable container” weighing no more than 15kg, which is about the size of a well-fed rat.
But given his rapidly diminishing faculties, I confidently rest my hopes on being accepted as a hearing guide dog. When I suggested, “I can be your hearing guide dog,” he replied, “Say that again?”
He must have seen my lips move. So there’s my spot. Woof!
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