Vernon the Three Pawed Discoverer

Rain drops danced upon the windscreen as we made our way along the windy dirt driveway. I can’t quiet remember if we were talking, or perhaps listening to the radio. But I do remember the chill of the air hitting my lungs as we got out of the car. A reminder that winter is just around the corner.

Tom led the way, up the stairs, through the warm reception area and back out another door, into the cool air. I followed closely behind, down a sheltered path to an outdoor corridor which was lined with metal gates. Behind each gate was a dog, or two, depending on how they had been assigned kennels. Each dog waiting. Wating for someone to want them.

After we passed a few kennels, Tom stopped. He looked at me and said, “this is him, look!”. As I approached the kennel, the first thing that caught my eye was his big brown eyes, soft floppy ears and wildly wagging tail. His strength and courage were visible, given that such a small dog had already undergone surgery to remove one of his front legs, however it didn’t seem too bothered. He was hopping around in his kennel. I looked over at Tom, as our eyes met, we both knew that this little dog needed to come home with us.

Driving home, Vernon sat proudly on Tom’s lap, mesmerised by the windscreen wipers. Back and forth, back and forth. It wasn’t a long drive, however it felt like forever. I wanted to get home quickly and see if Vernon would settle into his new home. I pulled into the driveway and looked at Tom, he smiled. He’d wanted a dog for so long, we just hadn’t met the right one. Until now. We hopped out of the car and made our way inside. We’d already set up the doggy bed and bought a few different toys, however Vernon made it clear that he wanted to be between us, at all times!

As the days passed, Vernon developed new skills and Tom took great satisfaction teaching him new tricks and in turn, teaching me how to teach the tricks, too! Vernon also developed an admirable stamina, requiring multiple hour-long walks a day.

The days started feeling a little longer and warmer as we made our way through Spring. We enjoyed taking Vernon for walks at dusk, greeting the local wildlife as they foraged for their dinners. Vernon quickly became intrigued by wallabies and pademelons.

One warm evening, we went for our usual walk, following the same tracks that we’d walked hundreds of times. We walked along the dirt path, passing the lake that seemed to be losing water. We made our way along the tracks and up to a flat and open area. Finally, time to let Vernon off his lead and let him run until his heart was content. His little legs would move so quickly; however, it was stopping that was always a problem. As Vernon ran back and forth, Tom told me stories about his day, the people he met while at work and the creative ideas that filled his mind throughout the day. We noticed Vernon had stopped running back and forth, he seemed interested and focused on a small mound of disturbed earth. We briskly made our way over to where he was sniffing the ground and before we could get to him, he was digging with his front paw. Determined, Vernon continued digging and dirt and sticks were flying in all directions. Eventually, Tom was able to wrangle Vernon away and clipped his lead back to his collar. As we were walking away, I turned briefly to admire the mess that had been created. My eyes skimmed over what appeared to be a book. I turned back and focused on the black cover and walked towards it. Tom and Vernon stayed where they were but watched on. I picked up the book, a plain black cover. A wave of guilt flushed through my body. I shouldn’t be looking at this. It isn’t mine. It could be personal. I held onto the book tightly in one hand. I couldn’t bring myself to open in while still in the bushlands.

“Let’s just go home and we have look at it there”, I said to Tom. He turned and Vernon lead the way.

Once we arrived home, Tom unclipped Vernon’s collar and took the book off the table I’d just sat it on.

“Come on! The suspense is killing me”, he joked. So, I sat down beside him at the kitchen table and he opened the cover. In immaculate calligraphy the words “This Book Belongs To: William Spencer” were neatly written in the middle of the first blank page.

“I wonder how old this is?” I asked Tom.

“With writing like this, it must be pretty old”, he replied.

As we flicked through the pages, we tried to make out what all the numbers and words meant, however it was proving difficult. Was it tracking time? Was it coding? Whatever it was, both Tom and I knew we couldn’t make sense of it.

“I’m just going to jump online and search for a William Spencer and see if I can find anything that can help”, I said to Tom.

I fetched the laptop and typed “William Spencer, Hobart, research” into the search bar. Surely this would bring some results? Within a millisecond, there was an extensive list of pages relating to a William Spencer Ornithophile of Hobart.

With a firm nudge to my left shoulder, Tom exclaimed “HOLY CRAP! This is William Spencer who discovered the Forty-Spotted Pardalote!”. Clearly Tom had read further on to where I had seen.

The Forty-Spotted Pardalote was an incredibly rare bird, only found in the depths of the South West of the state.

I looked at Tom. “What if this book holds information about the Forty-Spotted Pardalote? What if all these numbers are times or dates or even locations of where the birds were seen?”.

It was getting late, we decided to put the book away and get back to it the next day.

After spending a couple of days researching William Spencer and Forty-Spotted Pardalote, we decided to go to the local museum and see if it was of any interest. Tom phoned prior, but he seemed to think the person who received the call wasn’t too interested in it. We decided to take it in anyway.

We made our way through the giant glass doors and to the customer service desk.

“Hi, we phoned about finding a book that belonged to William Spencer. Is there someone we could speak to about native birds?”, I asked.

The employee didn’t say much, rather scurried through a side door, returning with another worker.

An older man with thinning hair, frameless glasses and holding a notebook of his own, he greeted us and introduced himself as David.

I showed him the book and immediately his eyes widened, his pursed lips transformed into a shocked smile. David slowly turned the pages, gasping at every new page, even though every page looked the same.

He looked at me. “Do you realise what you’ve found?”, he asked.

“I think we may have an idea, but we weren’t sure if it was important”, I replied.

David stood up, abruptly. He scurried out of the room quickly.

“Uh, that was weird”, I whispered to Tom. He nodded in agreement, not wanting to make too much noise, given we were in a museum.

Within no time, David reappeared with a lady. Tom and I both stood up, out of politeness.

“Hello, my name is Sandra and I am the Director of the museum. We cannot believe we are holding the original works of William Spencer”, she said.

“Hi, I am Mel and this is my husband, Tom”, I replied. I explained where the book was found and that it had actually been Vernon who found it.

After some back and forth, it became apparent how important the information in the book actually was.

Sandra, still standing, looked at us with a serious stare.

“Tom, Mel, I hope you realise the significance of this book. We would be so grateful if you let us display it in the museum”, she said.

“Ofcourse!”, I replied. I figured that it wouldn’t mean too much to myself and Tom if we took it home.

And with that, Sandra disappeared into a different room. I looked at Tom, somewhat annoyed. Why did they keep walking away?

Sandra returned as quickly as she had left.

“We can’t accept the book as a gift. This book is priceless, therefore we must thank you for it”, she said as she handed Tom a piece of paper. Tom looked down, my eyes followed. A cheque. A cheque for $20,000.

“Oh”, I gasped. “We can’t accept that”.

“It is the least we can do”, Sandra said with a smile.

I looked back at Tom who was clearly as shocked as I was.

With an exchange of information, Sandra and David bought the meeting to an end.

As we made our way out the front doors of the museum, Tom turned to me.

“Our dog found us $20,000 Mel!” he exclaimed. “The least we can do is buy him a new toy!”.