I've never been to a pineapple farm before and I've never seen Caboolture before. Caboolture is a satellite of Brisbane in northerly Moreton Bay Shire where many people live who commute to the big smoke on a daily basis. Pineapples are those delicious yellow fruits that make you need a shower after eating one.

It was an hour's drive to get there, omitting the slight detour required by my terrible navigation, and when I arrived half-an-hour early for the appointment I made early this morning there was a large black dog in possession of the property. I've never really clicked with dogs so I stayed in the car. I've always had strange relations with dogs and this specimen was so large and ferocious-looking that I even made sure the windows were mostly raised as I waited for 2pm to roll by.

The dog didn't like it that I stayed inside the car. He athletically approached the car window and glared at me quizzically with his big, brown eyes. He sniffed the car's panels. He prowled around to the back of the car and barked. He barked several times near the front of the car. Even when he retreated to the house, I stayed in the car.

I left the property and came back five minutes later, having verified that this was, in fact, the right address. I stayed in the car. The dog stayed by the front door. He didn't bark any more but I knew that he was still there, waiting to attack me should I dare to open the car door and alight. He looked as though he could easily disembowel an ox in about thirteen seconds flat. My 2pm appointment arrived and waved me out of the car. "He's alright," he said as we approached the house. I remained on the alert as the dog - 'Rock' the Rottweiler - sniffed my groin in a friendly manner reminiscent of a supermarket shopper assessing the ripeness of a pineapple, say, before putting it in his basket. We went inside and discussed pineapples.

Outside, 30 minutes later, we quickly gauged the best place from which to take photos and decided to include the Glasshouse Mountains - visible in the distance here - as well as the tilled and populated fields comprising Tony Polsoni's property. The sun glared down as I snapped a few frames of my squinting subjects. The dog dropped comfortably to the terrazo floor of the patio as we made small-talk before I got back in the car and headed home on the Bruce Highway.