How do you describe the complex phenomenon of the sophisticated man-about-town? His ease in all kinds of company, his subtle air of mystery, his discreet comings and goings? You know the type – well-travelled, cultured, ageless and self-assured; friend to many, intimate of few. This is Cruise, subject of today’s post: a nuggety Jack Russell – or possibly Parsons terrier – with a certain profile in the town which commands affection and respect.  

A significant component of a community like ours is the non-human element – particularly, the dogs that live among us.  The cliché ‘man’s best friend’ doesn’t really get to the heart of this relationship, because the bond is deeper and more complex – described more from our perspective than that of the dog.

Now Cruise, for example, is a chap who has a very clear idea of what he wants out of life and how to get it – which isn’t to say that he’s selfish or single-minded, which are rather human traits (and anthropomorphising animals is for the birds, right?); it’s more that he has consistently made the best of his talents to create rather a pleasant lifestyle for himself.

Dogs, as we know, are pack animals. They’re sociable by nature and feel comfortable in a bunch – or family, come to think of it. And here’s Cruise’s real talent: his melting ‘feed me’ gaze, combined with an independence of spirit quite unusual among his canine peers. As a younger dog, living in Canberra, he would often go walkabout for days at a time, either reappearing tired and grubby of his own accord, or subject of a call from the local pound.

In fact, like the raffish gentleman cat-burglar of popular fiction, he has a criminal record – in effect, he’s on parole from the local pound, such that if he shows up there again, he’s in for the drop. We know little of where he went or what he did on his travels – bits of stories have emerged of Cruise escaping the custody of a neighbour wanting to return him, while legend has it he was seen down at the coast on more than one occasion.

These days he limits his flâneurie to the township of Braidwood: just the other day, Daniela was walking across Ryrie Park on her way to the Don when she spotted Cruise trotting purposefully across Wallace Street, apparently on the way to the pub. He is rather known to hang around places where food is purveyed, so must have been feeling a bit peckish. On this occasion, when his name was shouted, he paused with a backward glance, as if to say, “what now? I’ve got things to do.” But being A Good Boy at heart, he came when called and philosophically submitted to being taken home again.

He still gets around a surprising amount, either riding in the back of his owner’s ute or taking time out to hang with some of the tradies who come and go. But he’s not just an urban mutt – far from it: he likes nothing better than a visit to the family farm, where the rabbit population has learned to their cost that he’s not to be trifled with.

What’s most endearing about Cruise, though, is his surprising response to a little affection and his puppyish response to the thrilling prospect of a ball to play with. He’s yours if you’ll play ‘fetch’ for a quarter of an hour or so or give him a few minutes’ between-the-ears scratching – and will adore you forever if you tickle his chest. That is, unless there’s some grub on the go, because that’s what he requires to absolutely offer his fealty for life.

There are many who would adopt Cruise if they could. We’ve looked into the possibility ourselves, but the fact is, while legally he’s the property of the proprietors of the Don, he belongs to no-one but himself, and is known and loved by so many, it doesn’t really matter where he sleeps at night. He may not be anyone in particular’s ‘best friend’, but he’s a charismatic presence in many lives – his own extended family pack.