Menu Sian Prior

Writer, Broadcaster, Singer, MC & Teacher

The Last Word [December 11]

I can’t watch commercial television news these days. This is not because of the quality of the news coverage. I have a high tolerance for predictable reductive narratives in all sorts of things, TV news stories included. We all grow up on this stuff. We learn the scripts without even noticing them. We know who the good guys and the bad guys are going to be even as the news host is reading out the two sentence introduction to the story.

No, for me the problem is the puppies.

They’re stuck in drainpipes or floating down swollen rivers or left in a ditch the week after Xmas. Sometimes the puppies are kittens, or ducklings, or even guinea pigs. They’re always in trouble and it always requires a kindly human to rescue them from their plight. And they’re always at the end of the news bulletin.

The journalist in me is filled with a deep nausea about the predictability of their appearance after the weather forecast and before the titles. The creative writer in me is horrified by the cheap sentimentality of this narrative device. But as soon as the slow-motion footage begins – the puppy is re-united with its worried owner, the ducklings are reunited with the frantic mother duck – I am in tears.

No matter how much I steel myself for this approaching predictable curtain closer, the rational, cynical brain is overwhelmed by something much more powerful.

This is the only way I can understand my tears – and my recent decision to get myself a puppy for Xmas.

The rational brain fought hard. Lists were written of the pros and cons. The list of cons was much longer. The loss of freedom, the loss of sleep, the financial cost, the pee on the carpet, the ruined garden, the grooming and feeding and walking and worrying. The training that will be required. The barking that could annoy the neighbours. It was a long, long list.

The list of reasons to get myself a puppy was much, much shorter. In fact it wasn’t a list at all, strictly speaking. But if I told you which single four letter word was on it, I would be guilty of using the same pathetic and predictable narrative device that I can’t tolerate on the nightly news. So I’ll leave you to figure that out for yourselves.


(This column was published in The Sunday Age and the Sydney Morning Herald on December 11th 2016)