George. I’m not sure where he came from but I do remember my father drilling a hole on the edge of his shell and tying a piece of string to prevent him from escaping. Whatever gave him the idea that this was even slightly humane escapes me but poor old George died of fright after being continually flipped by a nosey Labrador.
Ok they were beautiful and they had a dove cote lovingly made by my father and apart from the time one flew down the chimney and spluttered soot everywhere and the fact that they were all eventually eaten by possibly Sox next door . .they were a reasonably successful experiment and actually raised two chicks.
Well actually only one and arguably my first pet if you don’t count the family dog. Hamish was very sweet and I was very diligent in his care although the powers that be (parents) decided that I should be solely responsible for his upkeep. I cleaned his cage religiously, I entertained him on my shoulder and in my hands, I fed him plenty. I did however, neglect his water bowl. RIP Hamish, I’m really sorry. Your death was an exercise in irresponsible parenting.
Grandma wanted to buy Adam a tank and had seen a dinky little plastic hexagonal thing at K-mart that was on special. It came with all requirements including plastic weed and a tiny pump and was small enough to fit a couple of goldfish or half a dozen tetras on the kitchen bench. Would have been fine apart from the fact that it sounded like a women’s pleasure machine and went green at the drop of a hat. Naturally we upgraded to the real McCoy and killed several hundred fish in the process due to inadequate water testing, disease and overchlorination of the water. Nope. We don’t have any more fish.
So cute aren’t they? Well yes until one little brindle mouse gets so fat that it virtually implodes and is found stiff and rotund under its happy wheel. (er Tiger, you were supposed to get ‘on’ the wheel, not fall asleep underneath it) and of course once Tiger bit the dust, Pinky had a conniption and began over grooming. Possibly the stinkage from unclean wood shavings that I ended up cleaning despite protestations from my son that they were his mice and he’d look after them. So, with a festering sore that could not be medicated, my $5 mouse ended up costing $75 to be euthanased via green dream. I know, if I was more of a ‘man’ I’d have hit the bloody thing on the head with a brick!
Not a bad option. I only had one cat but I had her for 17 years. Although I would profer a little advice. Sexing a kitten is not easy so when an unscrupulous breeder sells you a Male Burmese and it starts meowing and climbing the curtains, you can bet that there’s something awry. I found out the hard way by trying to describe whether the orifice underneath it’s tail was in fact a ‘dot’ or a ‘slit’ over the telephone to the vet. After acknowledging that “Basil” was indeed a girl and had a ‘slit’ . . she was promptly desexed and frankly I never looked back. Yes, a homebody cat is a fine pet as long as you are not allergic and don’t value your boucle furnishings.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Well except the first horse:
Dusty – Bought with birthday money sent by my Nana. Blue eyed – pretty – mad – dangerous. I had her for 8 years virtually as a form of transport then sold her on to a breeder to buy a car. That should have been the end of it.
Bunwarra Nakia (Nicky) - Ex cutting quarter horse cross. Bought at auction in a moment of madness with borrowed money. Trucked home and spent his first night in our suburban back yard next to the swimming pool! Lived a long time and was buried in our back paddock. Hated being caught, couldn’t walk, only had two buttons – “Jog” and “Gallop” but awesome bomb-proof fun.
Shane – (Poonnie)bought from my sister so that she could pay the bond on a flat when she moved out of home. Fortunately, given to a nice lady in Mudgee to ride on the weekends. His was indeed a happy ending. Well deserved, he was a happy horse.
Lasalle Royal Flash (Laurie) – bought 14 years ago for Clare to ride but also big enough for me to swing the leg over if I had a milk crate to stand on. Turned out to be a handful so he became mine. Fun for four years, now I can’t swing the legover and he’s in retirement.
Yorkston Classic – (Chippy) – bought shortly after Laurie and much more manageable for Clare.
The last two are now expensive lawn mowers requiring a manicure every six weeks and in dire need of a haircut. They too will most likely end up on the end of a back-hoe joining Nicky in his foxy grave. Laurie has a sweet freckly nose though and he talks a LOT.
OK I think that’s quite enough. All in all. Dogs have been the prevailing pets. They’re fun, they get you out of the house, they’re loyal, cuddly, sweet faced and just rubbable. They don’t eat much and unless you have to pay for a complete knee construction they’re quite economical to run. Yep definitely a dog person.
My three favourite pets:
Don't forget to check out other "Pets" on Theme Thursday