Wallaby Wednesday: Spunky’s symbiosis with Bloaty and Squirmy

Disclaimer: This column is not intended to spread sympathetic misinformation on real-life parasites. Just as the conception of Bloaty and Squirmy on Rocko’s Modern Life took broad license in its depiction of household-pet bloodsuckers, we are here to assess its potential symbolism.

On that note, the opening scene in “Dirty Dog” packs dense food for thought in a constrained container. An anthropomorphic planet Earth grimaces and addresses an itch. From there, the camera zooms in to indicate Rocko’s house is the irritations’s epicenter.

And so sets off a stacking doll of parasites and hosts. For the bulk of this first-season segment, Spunky plays host to the debutante Bloaty and Squirmy. The best-buddy tick and ringworm present their show within the show, culminating in Bloaty scratching his own itch.

Between the planet and tick’s scratching scenes, then in two more appearances by Spunky’s primary parasites, the dog plays an Earthly role. And not unlike the humans (or humanoids) who walk this rock, Bloaty and Squirmy are not a full-time problem. Only select peers of theirs, particularly the mosquito-like Blood Brothers, deserve a villain tag.

The fact that Earth scratches over Rocko, a textbook embodiment of the phrase social conscience, sets a telling tone. The wallaby does enough good to eclipse his naturally negative impact on the planet. Why couldn’t the same balance apply to Spunky’s inhabitants?

In the odd-couple vermin’s first episode, Spunky scratches when they jump too hard or suck his blood. Granted, the latter act is unequivocally unwanted, given the risk of illness it poses to their host.

Then again, whether it is out of insufficient information or inconvenient necessity, even the most benevolent humans do the Earth a bit of harm by extracting and utilizing natural resources. They have a tiny role in precipitating poor air-quality, just as Bloaty and Squirmy prompt Rocko to spray Scum-Away. Or in bringing on other unwanted phenomena, such as the flood caused by Spunky’s bath.

But dog sweat is Bloaty and Squirmy’s beverage of choice more often, and a more environmentally conscious one at that. Though depicted as their equivalent of alcohol, nature dictates that they procure it through their version of the water cycle. Spunky, who has a history of efficiently lapping up his own drool, makes it happen by hydrating himself before perspiring.

Naturally, Spunky must be alive and healthy to keep that coming. One must therefore trust that Bloaty and Squirmy are generally mindful of their resources. Beyond that, they are intellectually curious about the mysteries of their home.

Whether that fascination prompts historical speculation or statements bearing religious undertones, it catalyzes a positive give-and-take relationship. Within their two appearances after “Dirty Dog,” the protagonist parasites trade a life-saving favor with their host. In so doing, each party does itself and its counterpart a favor all at once.

The plot of “Gut Instinct,” a special episode within Rocko’s “Down the Hatch” episode, begins with Heffer’s ill-advised action. The steer gravely endangers Spunky by feeding him a Fatheads vitamin. This even after he had learned the dire consequences of doing so by seeing what it did to another pet.

Fortunately, while Rocko races Spunky to a veterinary ER, Bloaty and Squirmy are boat-touring through their dog’s digestive streams. When they encounter the towering tablet, it assumes the mystique of a Mayan artifact. Intrigued by its commercial potential, they relocate it to Spunky’s ear, where it can do no harm.

No harm for the host, anyway. It is instantly lethal to any miniscule beings who so much as kiss and lick the object.

 

The first victim is Bloaty and Squirmy’s tour guide, who displays his affection for “my discovery” while plotting to keep it and all profits for himself. All subsequent explosions doom the rioters who accuse the exhibitors of scamming them and destroy the object with their mouths.

The result is a ghostly, post-apocalyptic vibe in Spunky’s ear. After speculating that the tablet is cursed, Squirmy, in his New York City accent, laments, “No. We were coised. Coised…with greed.”

Come what may, Squirmy deserves credit for swallowing his pride. In addition, a small measure of justice is served in that he and Bloaty are the only survivors. They are the ones who, however unwittingly, save Spunky’s life, arguably more than once. As callous as it sounds to any bug apologist, they may have slowed down any potential parasitic overpopulation.

This is not to assert that the other residents rightly died in “Down the Hatch.” None of them are shown to be an outstanding threat to their host’s health. But one could make that case against the Blood Brothers, the antagonists in the Wild West episode within the third-season episode, “The Fatlands.”

When Bloaty and Squirmy seek a new lifestyle, they are too quick to accept a co-sheriff position. With this being a Texas-like setting, perhaps the merciless mosquito gang is their pet planet’s answer to excessive oil drillers. They are arguably liable for too much harm to Spunky, and unquestionably power hungry at the expense of fellow parasites.

To that point, they waste little time carrying out their plot to kill the newcomers. They even use a petty technicality (daylight savings time) to deny their intended victims a chance to flee.

As a testament to their intimidation, they face no resistance from the incumbent townspeople. No one steps up to join Bloaty and Squirmy’s fight. With that, the Blood Brothers use their ample space, courtesy of Spunky’s concurrent weight gain, to carry out their deed away from civilization.

But that is when adaptability, quick wit and city street smarts serve the (comparative) heroes well. As his final request, Squirmy asks the killers to reprise the dance number they had demonstrated at the saloon.

Being “outdoors” implicitly makes the number more perilous, as the jumping is more likely to catch Spunky’s attention. The events of “Dirty Dog” have long established Bloaty and Squirmy’s understanding of that. That episode also depicts their familiarity with dangerous brushes and other objects that can sweep them away.

As the Blood Brothers quickly prove, they have no knowledge of these safety tips. Accordingly, Squirmy’s trick works, as Spunky scratches the terrible troika far away from Tickle Flats.

That makes the first “act of dog” to bail the (relatively) good bugs out. The other one, which Squirmy essentially prays for, comes when Spunky’s liposuction kicks in, bringing familiar territory back within walking distance.

That is the last of Bloaty and Squirmy within the Rocko chronicles. But Spunky’s improved physique and implied trajectory toward a better lifestyle exudes promise for all parties. Maybe now the pup will be more active, generating plenty of dog sweat and thus dissauding the bugs from drilling blood.