Me and my Pets

An Introduction.  Me and my pets.

Me&my family

My companionship with animals began in childhood.  That’s me in the middle, with the knobbly knees!   Home was a house full of creatures, fur and feathered.  They were our best friends, the  dogs, all rescues. And, when one died, the house was filled with sobbing and cries of “no more after this one”. The heartache eased with the arrival of another new mongrel looking for a home. Rabbits and ferrets (kept apart-a wise decision), hamsters, budgies (all called Sparky to avoid confusion), goldfish, stick insects (promptly removed from the house when my little brother allowed them to run rampant in the salad bowl).

But there were no cats.  I was allergic to their fur and became itchy and breathless when in the same room as one. However, when I found three orphaned kittens in a garden, I popped them into my school satchel, took them home and hid them in the wardrobe with a dish of sardines and some milk.  Although they were my Secret, I guess that my violent sneezing, runny eyes and breathing problems gave the game away and the kittens were given to neighbours.

Except for one kitten.  Following my impressive display of juvenile hysteria, my parents allowed the smallest kitten to stay.  We named that kitten Pussy.   The photo is a  favourite one, taken a  couple of  summers later, of my Mum with Susie Dog, my brother with a Sparky Budgie and me hugging Pussy. My allergies eased with regular contact with the cat and I haven’t suffered since.

That was the beginning of life-long friendships with a number of pets. Into my adult life, my favourite flatmates were a succession of hamsters; Dennis, Arfer and EggyNeighbours and friends asked me to pop round and feed their fish, rabbits, guinea pigs, cats and to walk their dogs.  

Here are the stories of the cats that shared my life, were much loved and remain forever in my heart:-

Eccles.  The first since childhood, a frail, marmalade- ginger and white cat.  He’d been in a rescue for two years, hiding away with an injured mouth and broken teeth, crippled with fear.  I couldn’t leave him there, as others had done, so we went back to my flat together. We then moved into our own house, so he could have a small garden to enjoy.  Eccles and I were the closest of pals for three years. I think they were the happiest of times for  this timid cat and he felt safe. And when there was no more I could do to make him well,  I sat with him as he slipped away from me in his final sleepI laid Eccles to rest in his garden, said Farewell and moved to the quiet cottage I’d hoped we would share together. 

Crumble. My vet asked me to care for this young ginger cat. He’d been run over and left  for dead, lying in the gutter by the side of a road.  Someone stopped and saw the cat was alive. As a result of the accident, Crumble was left partially sighted, epileptic and with a damaged brain that was a few seconds behind the rest of the world.  His world was me and the peace of the cottage. For eleven years he was my inseparable, cheeky chum, full of fun, and I stayed by his side til the end.   

Maisie.  Someone with a heart of stone put  an elderly, epileptic cat in a box, taped it up and dumped it on waste ground.  A dog walker found Maisie trying to claw her way out of the box and her sad plight featured on the front page of the local paper. The photo captured her toothless smile,  her squint and her pretty torty coat and she joined me and Crumble to share our home.  Trusting,  old  Maisie very much enjoyed what was to be the last year of her life, sleeping by the fire and snoozing in the flower beds.  A honeysuckle on her grave flowers in her memory. 

Algie. He was scheduled to be put down by a rescue, as no- one had shown any interest in adopting a withdrawn, black cat.  I took him away from that hopeless place and Algie quickly made himself comfortable on the sofa and the bed.  It was wonderful to see him blossom into a confident, playful and contented pet.   He  took every day as a new adventure.  I was lucky to have found Algie but so disappointed to lose this special cat to stomach cancer after just two years together. He was only about 4 years’ old and I wish he could have lived for longer.

Biggles. An eight week old ginger and white kitten with huge ears, playing in a pen at a rescue shelter and booked in for euthanasia because his front leg was fractured. Into my cat basket he hopped, he charged round the house, up and down stairs, up and down curtains, up and down trees, swinging his  crooked leg out at a jaunty angle.  Biggles and Algie  quickly became firm friends, both enjoying the lives they deserved.  Biggles was bereft when Algie passed away.  Nine short years later, curled up in my arms, my Biggles died of bone cancer. Memories of the life of this joyful cat are precious.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daisy.  Just a kitten when she was thrown out of an upstairs window by drug dealers and then removed from danger by watchful neighbours. The abuse she suffered as  a kitten left her defensive, difficult to handle and wary of people. The sociable Biggles loved his pal  DaisyThe independent Daisy tolerated Biggles.   He was reluctant to come inside from the garden until she returned from her daily travels;  a constant friend, sitting on the garden path to greet her.  And for several weeks following his death, Daisy  waited on the path for Biggles to come home, not understanding that she and I would never see him again.   For the next five years, we forged an affectionate alliance on her terms.  A brave, reckless, small, fat friend.  One afternoon in April 2016, as the spring sun emerged from behind a hail storm,   I stroked her head as Daisy died quietly of liver cancer. She lies next to Biggles,  by the side of the garden path. 

Teddy.  A middle-aged grey cat, scabby and shabby  with a chronic flea allergy and arthritis.  She was straying for over a year on the streets of an inner city suburb.  A rescue picked her up but, six months later,  this  undemanding cat was still waiting for a new owner. My home had a gap and, in June 2016,  good-natured Teddy made it her home too.  My vet removed all of her decaying teeth to heal her bleeding gums; at last she was free from pain. I named her Teddy because she looks like a cuddly toy,  with her soft, crinkly fur and green button eyes. Clearly she was much loved once, then lost , and now loved again. She  enjoys the simple things in life -sleeping with her paw in my hand, snacking from a full food bowl, playing with string and curling up her warm bed for a mid day nap.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daisy, leaping off a roof. Without a parachute.

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