Ridley: I love animals. I always have, even as a child I used to spend half my time animal-napping other people’s pets. One of the days, when I was seven, I remember grabbing a full packet of ham and laying a meaty trail in through our front gate for this gorgeous basset hound I’d spotted on the street.
The minute he’d ambled into our garden, I leapt forward, slamming the gate closed while laughing, ‘He’s mine now!’. Mind, he was quite clearly someone elses, with his lovely new collar and name tag (complete with address and all on the back) but I cheerfully ignored all these obvious signs of people ownership as I hugged him and he became mine for all of half an hour until my mother released him. *sigh* I even tried to adopt a skunk once, not really understanding that they weren’t fluffy cats with large white stripes (all those episodes with Pepé le Pew tricked me!).
That aborted animal stealing event ended with me being scrubbed in the bath with tomato juice. It was shortly after this that my parents eventually relented and got me a white kitten, which I called Precious (no, I didn’t really think that name through too well, that or I was already showing Gollum-like tendencies, ‘My Presciousssss’)
Since then, we’ve had numerous beloved, and not forgotten, animals. Not least of which are the ones at home at the moment.
We have three dogs, which are known as the twins (two cairn terriers – Ernie and Daisy) and the big ‘un (Raffles, half dalmatian, half cocker spaniel).
There’s also our cat Pigeon, who is basically the princess in the house, we (okay, I) spoil her rotten (little treats of tuna, special Whiskas milk) and she now expects it. I am convinced all cats remember the time when they were once worshipped in ancient Egypt; Pigeon in particular must have been some high priestess or something, as she gets annoyed if she’s given normal cat food.
I swear the four of them think they’re humans, or at least they act like it. And yes, I’m sure you noticed that I called my cat after a bird, I really wanted to call her something like Cleopatra (she would have been Cleo for short, I had it all planned out) or Crookshanks, but the family vetoed all of my well thought out (and pilfered from various movies/books) names, so eventually I said, ‘she’s grey, we’re calling her Pigeon’, of course everyone protested, telling me I couldn’t call a cat after a bird. Ha, watch me. (Latimer wanted me to call her Dobby, but I didn’t think she had big enough eyes)
Pigeon also has the three dogs wrapped around her little paw. If she’s ever in a fight with another cat, she races down the wall, happily leading her would-be attacker into the back garden. Then she hops down right into the centre of the three dogs. Who see another cat chasing their special Pigeon and they rear up barking. All the while, behind them is Pigeon, with a smug little expression staring up at her shell shocked enemy who turns tail and flees in horror. Ingenious really, and kinda evil, is it little wonder she’s my cat…haha
Anyone else have crazy cats and dotty dogs? What would you do without them, eh? 😀