Live in Bundaberg and have a sick sausage dog or a queezy kelpie? Lucky you, because now you can head to Greencross Vets in Walkervale. They’ll patch up your poorly pooch and, more importantly, you can have your photo taken with an enormous mosaic mutt.
Please raise your rum bottles as we toast the one and only Bundy the Wonderdog!
This bone-afide masterpiece is much more than a simple canine, however. Bundy, who appears to be a Dalmatian of some sort, is ensconced in the warm embrace of a loving veterinarian.
At least I think that’s what the big, moon-shaped head behind him is meant to represent.
When the sun shimmers on the thousands of black and white tiles, it’s hard to determine where dog ends and human begins – a post-modern commentary on the timeless bond between man and beast, perhaps?
Bundy was commissioned by legendary local vet David Lever who, along with his wife, ran the practice for many years. Thankfully, when Greencross took over in 2007, they decided to keep the wacky woofer out the front.
They’d be barking mad not to!
Thus far, I’ve been unable to track down the name of the artist who actually created this mosaic monument. Maybe it was Antoni Growl-dí – teehee!
Sadly, like Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, Bundaberg’s own cultural centrepiece remains incomplete. The bottom half of this statue consists of plain grey concrete, as the tiles were either never installed or have fallen off.
Talk about erect-tile dysfunction!
Just Another Manic Bundy
Greencross Vets are as much a part of Bundy as ginger beer and sugar cane, so when I found Gordon frothing from the mouth and speaking in tongues, I knew just where to take him.
“Rabies,” I muttered, bundling him into the car. “Well, he was bound to catch it sooner or later.”
By the time we made it to the vet, Gordon’s eyes were rolling back in his head. But I wasn’t going to let a little thing like my best friend’s imminent demise get in the way of admiring a Big Thing, so we posed for a few happy snaps with Bundy the Wonderdog before rushing into the emergency ward.
“This tiny alien doesn’t have rabies,” the vet chuckled after taking a peek at Gordon. “He just had too much Bundy Rum last night.”
“You can tell that just by looking at him?” I gasped.
“Well, Bigs, I attended the finest veterinary college in the country, have treated thousands of animals…” the vet grinned “… and I also saw Gordon dancing down Bourbong St at 2am this morning with a witches’ hat on his head.”
I grimaced at the little alien. I wasn’t angry, just disappointed.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Gordon rasped as he reached for a glass of Berocca. “And when in Bundy, drink as the locals do!”
