NG5 Arnold Dec/Jan 2022

As a kid I was desperate for a pet. I used to send
my parents (and Santa) begging letters (this was
before mobile phones remember). Eventually they
caved in.
My first pet was a mouse. My brother and I had
one each. I remember one day my brother picked
his up by the tail and accused it of eating all the
chocolates. Dangling there, it was twice the normal
size and all lumpy. Next day there were about 12
babies. Little did we know these would be the first
of many. Bear in mind this was the seventies, when
pet shops still sold puppies and ours also had a onearmed
monkey and a huge snake. We put the babies
in egg boxes and took them to the pet shop and the
man paid us for them. Result! This enterprise was
cut short when our parents found out and the mice
were split up. It wasn’t until years later that I found
out that the pet shop owner was feeding them to the
snake, not selling them as pets!
Guinea pigs came next. Daisy and Buttercup. I
loved those pigs, but not enough, it appeared, to
want to clean the cage out every week. No surprise
that when they died, we entered the pet wilderness
years. There was the odd stick insect and a couple
of goldfish but nothing until I left home.
That’s when the cats started to arrive (and depart).
Starting with Flo and Ted. When Flo was run over,
she had to wear a cast on her front leg. Strictly
no climbing, no jumping and no running. She was
confined to the back room to prevent her doing any
more damage. After checking on her, a hysterical
child came running towards me holding Flo’s ‘leg’.
Luckily for the cat, it was just the cast that had
fallen off!
Shakey the Wondercat came next. He fetched, like
a dog. Hours of fun lobbing tin foil balls for him to
bring back to us. Sadly, he was also run over (there
is a pattern emerging here) before his first birthday.
The
Menagerie
Tale
I was sobbing to Gary about how his light shone
brightly even though he hadn’t lasted long. “He was
hardly Jimmy Hendrix” came the reply. Bit harsh.
Even with all the heartache (and vets bills), who
wouldn’t want to wake up to make a cuppa and slide
along the kitchen floor on cat puke?
How dull would life be without solving the mystery
of a thousand feathers all over the carpet but no
body?
Who doesn’t enjoy identifying mysterious puddles
and damp patches around the house? Could it be
dog dribble, cat wee, Gary???
We now have an elderly cat who has lost her
marbles, as well as her teeth. If she’s not asleep,
then she is parading all over the kitchen surfaces
leaving a trail of slobber and fur as she pesters us
continuously for food.
Six years ago, we reached the pinnacle of our pet
timeline when a visit to the Mayflower Rescue
Centre on new year’s eve resulted in us adopting
Harry. Now I get it!
I used to wonder what all the fuss was about when
dog owners would gush that a home’s not a home
without a dog. It’s true! It’s not a home – it’s a tip!!!
Mud and fur everywhere. And I mean, everywhere.
You know things have gone too far when, after a
really bad episode of coughing, we were convinced
Gary was about to huff up a fur ball!
Still, not content with one faithful friend, two years
later we went back and got Herbie. And that’s when
the fun really started…But we wouldn’t have it any
other way.
H.C.A.A.H.N.Y
© A W