A LIFE LESS ORDINARY .... Introduction.

I can well remember the barely contained excitement of waiting for my Dad to get back with the little cardboard box that contained our first cat – Susie. My brother and I had been wanting a pet – any kind of pet – for almost as long as we’d been alive, which was four years longer than I had been, where my brother was concerned.

For sure, we’d had pets in the past, but either we were too young to appreciate them or they weren’t around long enough to make any impression. Like Rip, the big black dog my parents got when we were living in Kluang, Malaysia. My only memory of him is from the few photographs that still exist. He had to go to a new home when he started to nip us children, as he was a big dog who was difficult to control. Pickles, a little black cat, was famed for – when he was a kitten – emerging from my brother’s pram when they were on their way to the Naafi for supplies. He’d tuck himself under the storm apron of the pram and obviously the jiggling brought him round and he came out to see what was going on.

Then there was Omo, a little long haired white hamster. I must have been around 4 years old and only have a very vague impression of what he was like, although I can see him quite clearly in my mind. This was long before hamster balls allowed safe free ranging exercise, so he met an unfortunate end when his curiosity got the better of him and he ventured into the back of the t.v. set. Poor boy, he didn’t last long on that exploration. Of course, it would never happen these days, as most t.v. sets are a) too thin to accommodate a hamster and b) have no access holes anywhere.

Apart from Susie the cat, the earliest pet that I have any strong recollection of was Chirpy, our blue budgie. So far as I recall he lived a good long life, which ended while he was being taken care of by my Aunt & Uncle while we were abroad again. It must have been difficult for my parents, having an animal-mad daughter, yet owing to my father serving with the Royal Engineers we rarely lived anywhere for longer than 4 years at a time. Inevitably, Dad’s postings included tours of duty in Germany and further afield. In those days of course, animals crossing country borders would have to stay for 6 months or so in quarantine. It was a lot to ask of an animal.

This was the quandary that we were in, once we learned we were to return from Germany. What to do with the cat? She was a superb character. I can remember her sitting on the draining board in the kitchen of the married quarters house we had in Münster, Germany, watching the tap dripping and trying to catch each drip before it hit the sink – then shaking her paw in disgust at the wetness, before repeating the whole process again.

She was a lovely grey striped tabby with big white patches and the whitest paws. Mind you, she was no angel! So many times, she would lie in wait behind the sofa – then dash out and grab you by the ankles as you walked past. The trouble was, when she grabbed, she used claws. Ouch! The little monster was responsible for many nasty scratches and quite a few holes in both socks and stockings!

She also loved to drag herself along the ground, using her claws to fix into the material of the sofa. Round and around she’d go. Hysterical to watch, of course, but my poor parents’ sofa was a little the worse for wear because of this activity.

Knowing how active a cat she was, it would have been cruel to have subjected her to six months in a cage. So, we left her behind with (and I quote my Dad) “a lovely farm home, where she can catch mice all day”. I hope it was so – and I hope she did catch mice all day. We missed her terribly.

So basically, from Susie onwards, there have been very few weeks where I haven’t had one animal or another – or very often, several – to share my life.

These are their stories, far more than mine.

Chapter 2 : Horses.