Little furry friends

When we lived in the country we didn’t have a cat or a dog.  We had a succession of other small furry creatures.  The was a rabbit called Rosco.  He was a nice black rabbit and he liked to live in a rotating cylinder of chicken wire, so that he could circle the lawn, eating grass and moving on to fresh pastures when he needed to.Eventually he escaped. For a while we often saw him racing out across a paddock with the fox terrier from one of the other houses, chasing him.  I don’t know how long he survived but I remember that some of the younger members of the family were sure that he had packed his case and moved to Sydney.We had a guinea pig.  Isn’t it awful.  I don’t remember his name.  He escaped as well and lived under one of the daisy bushes in the garden.  We hardly ever saw him but we knew he was there because the grass around the edges of the daisy bush were always well eaten.So eventually we were persuaded to get a cat.A friend of Sarah’s who lived in Tarrington had a cat who had had a relationship with a wild cat and produced some kittens.  And so we got a kitten.She was called Princess Miaow.Poor Princess Miaow was very sick in the beginning.  She had cat flu and had to lie on a cushion close to the fire and have milk given to her with an eye dropper.  I wasn’t really sure that she would survive.But she did.When it was time to have her speyed we took her back to the vet and arranged to pick her up later in the day.We went in and found that the vet had had a surprise.  When he had put her on the operating table and was getting ready to operate, he had discovered that she was a he.He was a bit embarrassed as he thought that we would question his vetting ability because he was unable to work out a  cat’s sex.  But he said it had been hard to pick.And any way it was much cheaper, boys operations being much simpler and less expensive  than girls. Our girls were rather surprised but decided to call the Princess, Mr. Belvedere after an actor in a movie.  The actor’s real name was Clifton Webb.  The character of Mr. Belvedere was very pernickety and often pursed his lips.  But there you are.Mr. Belvedere lived a long a happy life after his rather shakey beginnings on the farm.More of him later.

One day I was sitting in the fish and chips in Ballarat with Jessica, waiting for our fish and chips to be cooked.  They had special seats for people waiting for take away.  They had kindly left some magazines there for us to read.  I picked up an old copy of Woman’s Weekly and was thumbing through it.  Jessica was reading over my shoulder.  We came to an article about the Queen.   Suddenly we both gasped.  There was a full page photograph of the Queen sitting in a rather gracious armchair and the Duke of Edinbugh was standing behind her chair looking grand, if a little moth eaten. But what had caught our eye, was the dog. There was a dog in front of the armchair and it was begging.  And it looked just like The Woozel. Just then the woman behind the counter placed our fish and chips before her and called out our number.  We were the only people in the shop.  I think she liked to stick to the routine.   We paid for our food and went home.But we couldn’t forget the picture.  Some of us worried about it all night.   So I went back to the fish and chip shop the next day and asked if I could have the picture.  The woman looked at me as if I had a few sandwiches short of my picnic but she let me tear out the picture and I took it home.   We didn’t buy fish and chips from that shop any more.  It all seemed a bit too familiar.A month or so later I was down at Point Lonsdale staying with my Mum and Dad.  They received a magazine every now and then from England.  I can’t remember what it was called but it was thoroughly british.  It was either the London Illustrated or This England.  I can’t remember.   Any way there was an article about the Queen’s dogs in it.  I started to read it.  And there it was!  Confirmation of The Woozel’s Royalness!   The Queen had corgis and Princess Margaret had dachshunds!   And there had been a cross pollination.The Queen had a Woozel dog!   There were  a lot of plans made about sending a letter to the Queen with photographs of our Woozel.  Someone even took a picture of the Woozel begging with a ruff around her neck.  The ruff belonged to a clown’s costume that my children’s grandmother had made at some time.  It was perfect with black and white polka dots.   But somehow we never did it.I think it was enough to know of Woozel’s Royal Status.   We didn’t need the Queen’s permission.

We had a wonderful dog called The Woozel.  We found her in a pet shop in Ballarat.  They said that she was a cross between a dachshund and a corgi.  She had tufty corgi hair on her chest and she had a dachshund face and paws.She loved to chase a tennis ball.  She would go on chasing the ball when it was thrown to her until the thrower was worn out.One day a friend decided to do a Woozel experiment.  He was determined to throw the ball until the Woozel got too tired.  This was somehing that had never been achieved.He kept on throwing the ball again and again, down to the bottom of the garden and Woozel would leap off the back step and fetch it back.  This went on for ages.  I even managed to make a cup of tea for everyone and serve it with scones with jam and cream while Woozel was on her marathon.Eventually she was tired out.  She went and sat in the birdbath to cool down.  It was the only time that she ever gave up the game. 

    I have called this story Rather Shocking Behaviour because of what Pedro did in this story but also to recognise that some of my readers are mouse lovers.           So here is another Pedro story.  He was a school cat and this is a good example that shows how he adapted himself to the school envionment.           This occured in the days before people were advising that cats should be kept inside at night to try and prevent them from hunting and killing australian animals.         There weren’t many australian animals in the school although there were plenty of possums, mostly bushy tails who could put up a good fight.         Anyway, after dinner, Pedro used to go out into the night for a spot of exploring and occassional hunting.  I was watching television.  The room that had the television was near the back door and it had a window that opened on to the back verandah.         As I was sitting watching what my mother would have called a Murdering  Film, I became aware of Pedro at the back door.  And as I listened closer I could tell that it was his hunting voice.  The hunting voice was quite distinctive.         I went to the back door and there was Pedro, sitting proudly beside a dead mouse.  Pedro was a very polite cat and always liked to share his catch.I politely refused and looked more closely at the mouse.     For one thing it was dead and for another it was white.  I was a bit surprised, but I thought that it must have been a pet mouse that had escaped from somewhere.         Having acknowledged Pedros cleverness I left him to his mouse and went back to watching my murdering film.       A little bit later…There he was again, crying outside the back door and when I opened it there was another mouse, lying beside the first one.  It was white.           I thought, gosh the white mice must be doing alot breeding out there.  Two in one night.  Surely that’s rather rare.        But when he brought the third mouse I began to smell a rat…bad choice of words there.       So I waited by the window and watched he set off across the lawn.  I crept out after him.  He went towards one of the class rooms.  Then he jumped up at a window and disappeared.    I found him leaning over a fish tank.   It was a bit like a cat supermarket.I turned on the light and I must admit that he did look a bit ashamed of himself, before he ran out the door.          The fish tank was being used as a mousery and it had no lid.     I went to the pet shop the next and replaced the mice that had been stolen and buried the dead ones in the garden. 

Zelda doesn’t care about camellias.  I don’t think that she really knows what a camellia is.  You know those bushes that have flowers that look a bit like roses and flower when nothing else is flowering?  And they don’t have any perfume?Anyway Zelda doesn’t care about them.  

Zelda would like to put out a warning of the dangers of Long Grass and Fluffy Doona Covers, especially for those of us who have short legs.  There is an extra danger if the person walks on four legs.Fortunately there is a remedy.  Zelda calls it Frog Leaping and refuses to consider the term Bunny Jumping as it might conflict with her family history, rabbits being something you hunt rather than something you imitate.The secret is to Frog Leap through the offending material with the added clause that when you are up, you have to look hastily around to guage your position and that you close you eyes when you are down so as to avoid grass seeds and duck feathers.I must admit that having observed a four legged friend leaping  through the long grass and over doonas, I am reminded of Peppy Le Peu’s famous action when chasing cats.  It must be the springing action and the way that the ears extend on the way down.I hope that this will prove useful.

 The house we lived in was an old victorian one with a large attic and some little stairs that led up to the roof.  The roof was quite flat on top and it had a little iron fence running around it. When the roof started leaking they discovered that the leaks were caused by the fence where it joined to the roof and so some roof menders were called to fix it.Chloe was always a very sociable dog and liked to join in with any activity around the school where we lived.  When she saw the work men going up the little stairs and up on to the roof she decided that she would join them.  It was a sunny day and the men had their lunches with them.  Chloe was always hopeful of a little snack.The men had to take the fence down so that they could seal up the roof and they became quite used to Chloe’s company and threw her a word occasionally if not a sandwich.She enjoyed being on the roof and liked to lie near the edge with her paws crossed neatly in front of her.  From the edge of the roof she could see out across the oval.  The sun was warm and she dozed for a while.And then Toby the gardener came walking across the oval and looked up and saw Chloe sitting up there on the roof and he said, “Hello Chloe!”Chloe looked up and saw Toby.  She was very fond of Toby and so without thinking about where she was, she stood up and stepped out on to the sloping roof.As Toby walked in under the shadow of the house he became aware of a scrabbling noise on the roof.  He looked up but he couldn’t see her.  So he tried working out which way she was coming by the sounds of her paws on the tiles.  And then he saw her as she flew out over the spouting and he was too far away to catch her and she flew gracefully into a camellia bush, which thankfully broke her fall.  It was just as well that he didn’t catch her as she was a big dog and she might have squashed him.But he felt terrible about it all and felt that he had encouraged her by speaking to her while she was up there on the roof.After a quick look to see that she was still alive he rushed off to the library where my mother worked and she came running back.  Chloe was sitting in the remains of the camellia bush licking her paw.  She was really very lucky and escaped with only a bruised leg.  She limped a bit for a week or two and eventually we forgot about it.But Chloe didn’t forget about it and a couple of months later mum had some people in for tea and Chloe joined them, always hopeful of a biscuit crumb.Someone admired her and mum told them the story of Chloe and the camellia bush, and when she had finished every one laughed.   And then Chloe stood up and limped across the room to my mother and leant against her with a mournful look in her eye.She hadn’t limped for weeks.”She understands everything I say to her,” my mother said.  And Chloe thumped her tail on the floor and smiled at everyone.She really was a remarkable dog. 

My mother had a cat called Pedro.  We used to call him Pedro the Fisherman Cat.  He was grey and tabby and a very handsome gentleman.  Of course he had to share the house with Chloe.  You remember, the dog on a tilt?  If you don’t, read the story called Chloe – a Dog of Many Talents  below. Anyway Pedro was a school cat just like Chloe was a school dog and he was very used to children and sudden loud noises.  Despite his handsomeness, he was also very tough.  I’m don’t know why.  What ever it was, he was fearsome when he put his mind to it. There are some stories about his fearsomeness but this is not one of them.This is a story about a tough cat who nearly met with his comeuppance.  That’s an odd word.  Comeuppance.  But there you are.  The world is full of strange and cumbersome words.  And some strange and cumbersome experiences as well.Pedro ruled his domain with an iron paw.  his paw wasn’t really made of iron, but he had very big paws.  My grandmother would have said that they were plebian but there you are.He had one small weakness.  He liked to sleep on top of people’s cars.  He like the bonnets of cars in the winter when their slowly cooling engines kept him warm.In the summer he preferred car roofs, if they were in the shade, or he’d lie down underneath them.My mother had one particular friend who had a car with a roof rack.  The friend would often call in to visit my mother and they would drink tea and eat biscuits and talk and talk.One such day, the friend said good bye and went out to her car which was parked in the driveway.  My mother often went out to wave her away down the street, but on this particular day, the phone was ringing and the friend let herself out and away down the drive.There wasn’t much traffic and so she drove along beside the river in the late afternoon sunlight, humming a little as she went.When she stopped at the lights she noticed that people were staring and pointing at something.  She looked around but she couldn’t see anything.  The lights turned green and off she went.She was passing a car sales shop which had large desplay windows and  she happened to look in at the cars that were on display and then she caught a glimpse of her car in the reflection.And she jammed on the brakes, nearly causing an accident and nearly unroofing her passenger.She jumped out of the car and there was Pedro looking a little shocked on the roof rack.  Apparantly he was much fluffier than usual and his eyes were very wide.She said afterwards that she will never forget that glance in the window, of Pedro standing braced on the roof rack, the wind blowing back his ears and whiskers.  How had he managed to hang on?She brought him safely home.  She said that he was not pleased about riding inside the car, and that he’d seemed to be using a lot of swear words in cat language.Needless to say, Pedro never slept on the roof of a car again.

This is Esmarelda.  She is a burmese kitten.She looks like a sweet little kitten.But oh no.  Under that soft fur, behind that pretty little face……is a spit fire…a kamacazi cat… 

Zelda enjoys the holidays.  She likes the company and is ever hopeful of extra snacks.  However there have been no extra treats.  Because….(in a whisper)  Zelda has become rather fat.  

There I’ve said it!  

For someone with such short legs…well what can I say…I have read some articles about dachshunds and they say that the standard ones were excellent badgering dogs.  They were used to hunt badgers.  I find this very hard to deal with because I am rather fond of badgers.  Ever since I read Wind in the Willows, I have respected them.  Who can forget Mr. Badger helping  Ratty and Mole deal with the Stouts and the Weasels.

Some years ago I read an article about an area in England where they have had to build tunnels that go under the roads in order to protect Mr. Badger and his friends and relations.  Badgers apparently follow the same paths during their lives and if a road is in the way, they just go on walking over it.  Unfortunately they were being hit by cars and so the people have built tunnels so that they badgers can keep to their traditional paths and not have to worry about cars and trucks getting in the way.  What a civilized thing to do.

Zelda would like us to get back to dachshunds.  They were excellent hunters.  Their front paws were built for digging and their saggy baggy skin helped them to squeeze through the tunnels.I’m sorry Zelda but what about the badgers?  I do hope that they don’t hunt them any more.  If someone is building them tunnels, it must mean that there has been a change of attitude.

Zelda assures me that none of her relations hunted badgers.  Badgers were hunted by standard dachshunds and Zelda has hastily adviced me that she is a miniature dachshund. Miniature dachshunds were used to hunt rabbits.

Oh no!  Please don’t mention this at school.  I’m sure that the school rabbits would be shocked and horrified to hear this news.  

Zelda has assured me that she is not interested in the school rabbits.  She has never hunted a rabbit in her life.  And any way there are far more interesting morsels about. Like grapes for instance, and lichee pips and avacados.

And toast crumbs.  Zelda loves toast crumbs with a smattering of marmalade or vegemite.  But no more toast crumbs!!  

She needs brisk walks in her harness.  

Actually she has to use Lily’s harness because Zelda ate hers. 

She is a dog of strange and mysterious habits.

Well I better stop now.

More later.