Like a celebrity approaching on a red carpet, 12-year-old border collie Morgan descends fancy stairs from the back of a stylish black SUV.
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His thick fur is black and white, the same colours as the beloved football team his owner, Ronald Cronyn, madly supports.
Morgan has arrived at Mercy Place’s Ave Maria to visit Mr Cronyn, who moved in around seven months ago.
Sadly, dogs can’t live at the aged care home, but they can visit as regularly as they like.
And, with the help of Mr Cronyn’s son Andrew, daughter-in-law Kim and daughter Anne, regular visits are certainly facilitated.
The two households share care of Morgan between their Sydney and Melbourne homes and in Mr Cronyn’s former Tatura home when they visit.
Andrew and Kim have been down from Sydney for two weeks and have brought Morgan to visit Mr Cronyn every day during their stay.
Morgan enters through the automatic doors and knows exactly where to find his best friend inside, navigating every left and right turn confidently to seek out his master at the end of the maze.
Andrew reports the working dog — who Mr Cronyn laughs has “never worked a day in his life” — is usually quite mischievous, but is always calm and on his best behaviour when he’s by Mr Cronyn’s side.
“Everywhere else he’s a bit naughty, a bit cheeky,” Andrew said.
“He hates garbage trucks and most noises — fans, birds, cutlery drawers, coughing, sneezing — he has a barking frenzy and runs circles in the yard, but when he’s here with Dad, he’s perfectly relaxed.
“They just stare at each other.”
Mr Cronyn loves dogs.
As a dairy farmer for 50 years on land at Byrneside, he says he “had to have dogs”.
“They were supposed to work. Some did, some didn’t,” Mr Cronyn said.
Andrew alluded to his dad’s soft spot for man’s best friend, saying all his dogs “evolved”.
“They went from working to sleeping inside,” he said.
“Morgan didn’t like being tied up; he wants to be a free man,” Mr Cronyn said in his wild-spirited dog’s defence.
Both men report that Morgan isn’t really fond of their gender, except for Mr Cronyn himself, and that he much prefers the company of women.
“He’s a ladies’ man,” they both agreed of the happily panting canine, who looked to also be in silent chorus with them.
“Most of the nurses here love him,” Mr Cronyn said.
A nurse, Elvira, who’d coincidentally popped in as if on cue, said: “He’s very famous in here.”
Morgan and Mr Cronyn came together half of Morgan’s life ago when he was six years old.
His former owner’s partner gave her an ultimatum: “It’s me or the dog.”
She chose the man.
Her loss was Mr Cronyn’s gain. And probably Morgan’s too, as he got to go where the love for him was.
Despite being the equivalent of an 80-plus-year-old human in dog years, Morgan still possesses endless energy, enjoying walks at 5am.
“He likes to get up when the sun comes up,” Andrew said.
The still-fit fellow enjoys playing with toys, particularly those of the squeaky variety.
His favourite is a rubber pig affectionately known as Porky Pig.
He runs into the yard, digs Porky a hole and buries him. Then repeats.
He also has a long squeaky snake that he flings into the air in a game of catch with himself, before wearing it like a scarf and entertaining onlookers with his jovial antics.
His diet consists of milk-soaked kibble, fresh chicken and chicken broth.
And, of course, the occasional treat, which he knows Mr Cronyn keeps a jar of in his space at Ave Maria.
“He’s good company in exchange for food,” Andrew said.
While he errs more on the side of pampered pooch than hardened farm dog, his somewhat anxious personality also calls for sedation before a haircut.
Because he requires such specific treatment just for a trim, it has to be done at the veterinarian while having his annual check-up and shots.
Andrew chuckles as he tells of how they’re vets, not hairdressers, so Morgan’s grooming leaves a little to be desired when he leaves the ‘salon’ looking like he has a feather duster for a tail.
“Someone asked if he was a poodle,” Andrew said with a laugh.
With Morgan now well past retiring age even if he had been a good worker on the land, Mr Cronyn said a good day on the farm for a dog was worth a lot of money.
“But he just wants a pension,” Mr Cronyn said.
“The government hasn’t given him one yet.”
If one thing’s for certain, it’s that Morgan was never going to help pay the mortgage.
Don’t they say ‘it’s a dog’s life’ anyway?
It sounds like that’s one command Morgan adhered to.
Senior journalist