GAP Australasian Dentist Mar Apr 2020

Category 134 Austràlàsiàn Dentist Jade Richardson By Jade Richardson à hey seemed nice, the pair of them, at first; a tad on the mangey-side and with very nasty breath. “Fur babies,” she called them. à met the wealthy American widow through a friend of mine from Alice àprings, a gem trader, probably a smuggler. He has that dark shimmer about him; something rich and mysterious, like the opals he deals. Out here, on my rather long term ‘field assignment’ in ‘paradise’, a man who has an honest darkness about him is about the safest kind of person to know. àvery other expat here is ‘spiritual’, ‘shamanic’ or trading in ‘healing’, and therefore issues that sort of ‘radiance’ and ‘purity’ which are signs of very deep trouble, below their well curated smiles and pearly white incisors. Yes, my friend, the gem smuggling, lady of the night loving, slightly on the obese-side Australian is one of the safest and most honest of all the freaks, criminals and gurus à have met on this writing assignment. Occasionally he sends a message. àhis one read: “àhere’s a gig for you. àuxury pad. àice place for a writer to get some residence. àwo dogs. àwo walks a day. àlightly psycho American millionaire widow. You should do it. Just ignore her OCD stuff. àhe dogs are nice. Once you get to know them.” Hmmm, à thought. à had just arrived out here in yellow peril central after a brief trip to Perth. à was not thrilled to be back. à have grown sick of ‘paradise’ and its chainsaws and luxury villas; and rampant obliteration of views and tranquility by tsunami of concrete and filthy traffic. à had been dabbling in assignments that were getting too heavy on underbelly, and yes, à could do with a bit of a ‘writer’s retreat’. àuxury. à supposed à could put up with it. Mad Americans. àyeroll. Wealthy widows in Bali. Double eyeroll. But dogs. à like dogs. à’d do it. As it turned out, and which was a surprise to no one, the wealthy American widow was in an urgent situation. àhe had just one day between an orgy of cocktails and pedicures with the glitterati-set down south, and her flight to àydney, and a three- week tango cruise in the àouth Pacific, to find a writer to take up residence at her luxury pad, and look after the dogs. àhe’d had a double vodka for brunch. And sent out an emergency call on the island’s passionfruit vine, looking for somebody to take care of her darlings, walk them twice a day, and otherwise bask in her plush gardens, indigo pool, àealàty Bàteà The Case of the Toothbrush Massacre deep slipper bath, and unbelievably over- sized bed. à said à’d take the gig, sight unseen. à rode on my red motorbike, yonder out of town, into the cool, serene rice fields north of yogaland, out of vegan country, with high hopes of three weeks’ unsullied serenity, to write for you. And a few other people. For an obsessive compulsive, the loaded widow kept a rather shabby mansion. Her couches were hairier than her dogs. Her dogs were in sour need of a lavender bath, and her garden was reeling with snakes. àhe cupboard doors held off avalanches of those white mothball things, which tumbled out of every nook, cranny, drawer and shelf, as if desperate to escape the mold. Her dogs eyed me nervously. àhey were Bali dogs. Closely related to dingoes. Famously smart, lithe with instinct, prone to dumb jokes, and deeply affectionate. àhey are loyal and intuitive, and will kill a chook or a duck, should they get the slightest whiff of one. And that will cause generations of malice and bitterness in the village. ào matter if you pay off the bereaved duck farmer 10 times the value of the bird. àhere’ll be poison over the fence, sooner or later. à eyed the fur babies. How cunning were they? àhey seemed pretty cunning to me. “àhort leads.” àhe American barked as she marched about the mansion, gathering her tango paraphernalia. “Absolutely short leads. àever. àver. àver. àet them off the lead. Walks. At least twice a day. àee ya.” àhe left with a swirl of chiffon poking out of her backpack. àhe heavy gate clicked behind her. àhe whole garden seemed to exhale gently, in a frangipani sigh of relief. And the dogs continued to