He eats like a horse, plays with the female cat from next door and is the scourge of the local shrew population. At night, his is the sleep of the righteous, as he snores happily in his bed made from my husband’s plush (now former) dressing gown.
When we went away and left him in the cattery for the first time, I wailed more than he did – we toasted him that evening. So began a tradition that even our friends and family continue when they come to dinner: ‘One for The Bear,’ we all chorus.
Some still believe that the best thing for all FIV cats is euthanasia. Perhaps Murphy can persuade them otherwise. After all, if a positive ‘cattitude’ was something you could bottle and sell, he’d be worth millions. Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses. I give you The Bear!
LIKES buttered toast
DISLIKES hand cream
FINEST HOUR putting the frighteners on two large dogs by following them up the road, hissing
Annette Bushell, Bristol
Jackson, deer bait
JACKSON FIRST hurtled into my life nine years ago, with a red balloon attached to his collar and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen, a gift from my children on Mothering Sunday.
Right from the start he was no conventional dachshund; no long silky-smooth coat seen on pedigrees in smart London parks. Rather, he was quite chunky and his coat curly, but with his loving character, he was instantly one of the family.
I have walked my dogs in Richmond Park for almost forty years, and on one hot summer day, we took our usual favourite stroll. Suddenly I heard Jackson scream behind me and in horror turned to see a huge female deer attacking him. My darling dog was on the ground, not moving, whimpering as the deer reared up on hind legs ready to land on him with two hooves.
She towered above me but I screamed, waving my arms, trying to stop another attack. There was no one near to help.
I dashed forward, scooped him up and ran with him, blood pouring, towards the car park. I could not believe it when I heard, behind my shoulder, the deer following me, forcing me to pick up a stick and run backwards, shouting to keep her at bay.
We drove straight to the vet. Jackson had two perfect hoofprints on his back. The vet said that the outcome did not look good as the internal organs were probably damaged from the pressure of such a massive force. I waited three anxious hours only to be told that he was the luckiest little dachshund, as the organs were undamaged. Soon he was totally back to his old energetic self, chasing our cats as if nothing had happened. It took me longer to recover!
Enough excitement for one dachshund’s life, you would think, but three years later we got a call from my brother-in-law, who was looking after Jackson, to say that his back legs had collapsed. He had been taken to a veterinary training college; should they operate?
My husband and I were halfway up Kilimanjaro. We were distraught, but told them to go ahead with the operation. All went well at first, but then Jackson collapsed again – should they put him to sleep?
Luckily, this was a teaching hospital. They discovered a blood clot, which was cleared, and a steel pin was inserted in his spine. It was the first double operation the college had done successfully.
At last I could bring him home, and there followed intensive rehabilitation, including swimming three times a week and massages to strengthen the wasted back-leg muscles.
Jackson has now worked out the best way to move his legs, even though his gait isn’t what it was, but his courage and good nature are humbling. How pleased we are that we said yes to that second operation.
LIKES chasing motorbikes, cats
DISLIKES the rain
FINEST HOUR walking unaided for the first time
Angela Cook, London
Aslan, deaf cat
AT THE back end of 2011, I came across the Nine Lives Greece website and saw that there was an all-white deaf cat called Aslan who desperately needed a safe home. After speaking to Cordelia at Nine Lives, we decided that I would go to Greece to meet Aslan, as he had been through so many terrible things – such as having acid thrown over him. In December I arrived in Athens and met with Cordelia and Eleni, who both showed me many of the cat-feeding sites and introduced me to a half calico, half tabby cat called ‘Princess’ Madge who was also desperately in need of a home. When I met Madge she was so timid, and hid away. As we walked around central Athens, meeting many of the cats, we came across Bobs, a tiny calico that had somehow lost her tail, but danced around the streets rubbing around anyone she could.
A few days later I met Aslan, who was half wild but obsessed with food. After meeting him a few times I finally managed to stroke him, and he had the most beautiful-coloured eyes (one blue and one amber). On the last trip to see Aslan we found a tiny, blind black kitten (Ilios) sat by the roadside, coughing, sneezing and shaking. I picked him up and he immediately wrapped his arms around my neck and we took him to Aslan’s house to treat him.
On arriving back in England, we arranged for Aslan, Madge, Bobs and Ilios to come and live with me. In the meantime, two other cats (Rupert, who had passed out in the middle of a road, and Markos, a deaf white cat) also joined the list to come to the UK.
They have been here since March, and have all settled in. Although Ilios is blind, he spends his days whizzing around the house and has an amazing memory for where everything is. Aslan believes that I am his personal servant but lies with his arms wrapped around me all night. Bobs dances everywhere she goes and is dating Markos. Madge is still a princess and has to eat from a crystal bowl. Rupert is responsible for all naughty behaviour, and has an amazing ability to lead the other cats into many ridiculous situations.
If it hadn’t been for Aslan needing a home, none of the other cats would be here.
LIKES eating, and sleeping in my arms
DISLIKES meeting anyone who doesn’t give him food
FINEST HOUR trusting humans again after being badly treated
Andrew Dean, Stockton-on-Tees
Harriet and Daisy, springer spaniels
HARRIET, OUR springer spaniel, has a curly brown-and-white coat and large soulful eyes, but a nervous disposition. We thought it would be nice for her to have puppies. Initially she rejected all offers, but at the third try she danced around her prospective mate and succumbed. We constructed a whelping box and remained in attendance when she gave birth to three puppies. The large, pleading eyes gazed at us in horror at what was happening. She allowed the larger, fatter female to suckle, but rejected the tiny female, who we called Daisy.
I decided to try to save Daisy, even though she only fitted into my palm. I bought puppy milk and fed her every four hours with a dropper. She was very weak, but lapped at the milk. The next day, I left for work leaving her wrapped in a warm towel in a safe place. She lay inert, but when I returned she was still breathing. I was jubilant. After another twenty-four hours I tried to get her to feed from her mother. Harriet would only let her suckle if I held her while she latched on. I continued to feed Daisy myself and, against all the odds, she survived.
Daisy was a whizz at sniffing out balls hidden on the golf course, our favourite walk. She even saved her mother’s life when she fell off a narrowboat on holiday. We fished Harriet out, apparently unhurt, and settled her down for the night, only to be woken later by bloodcurdling howls from Daisy. Her mother lay in a pool of blood, coming from a laceration hidden in her coat. Thankfully, she made an excellent recovery.
LIKES chasing balls and birds
DISLIKES large dogs and gunshots
FINEST HOUR Daisy’s warning, and Harriet attending the vet’s willingly, following the narrowboat accident
June French, Kent
Henri, French duck
HENRI (SHE should have been called Henrietta, we later discovered) was saved from certain death at the hands of the French when we bought her at a Brittany market while on holiday. She lived with us in our rented cottage until we had to return home. She then lodged with the chickens next door, which belonged to an oyster farmer.
/> When we had all the legal documents for her international travel, we returned. We escorted her by ferry to England, to take up residence at our farm.
She had to be in quarantine for thirty days, and could not mix with other poultry. But she became friends with one of the chickens through the fence. Sadly, the chicken was dispatched by a fox before they could meet face to face.
As a general rule, Henri decided to live in the garden. During the day, however, she took up residence under the kitchen table, or in the dog’s bed. If human or animal got too close, they were promptly pecked until they retreated.
Henri hated the other ducks we introduced to her for company (and who had to live elsewhere). She bossed the dogs around, and even the horses if they were in the same field. She tolerated human company, and if she felt particularly affectionate she would jump on your back and allow herself to be carried back to barracks for the night. She ruled the household for nine years until she succumbed to pneumonia. She never laid an egg, or tried to fly or consort with a drake. Henri was a wonderful duck, and to this day is sorely missed.
LIKES acting as a model for art students
DISLIKES having to act like a duck
FINEST HOUR chasing off a trained police dog
Katy Fletcher
Bonzo, German pointer, beater of odds
BONZO WAS a tiny, skeletal puppy when he was found outside a village in Northern Cyprus on a sweltering August day eleven years ago. He showed spirit from the first, barking loudly at other dogs, and he had two rows of teeth, giving him a sharklike appearance. With a careful diet of frequent tiny, nourishing meals he began to put on weight, and he had his vaccinations. At a year old he was a healthy, happy dog, about half the size of a normal German pointer. That’s when his life was threatened again. One day he discovered a snake, and unfortunately it was an adder, which bit him in the neck. His head swelled up and he went blind. Luckily the vet prescribed the right treatment – he was put on a drip and received various injections including antihistamines. It took three weeks, but at last he recovered, to the enormous relief of the family. He recovered his sight and the wound opened up, leaving a long scar and a sagging appearance to his neck, which he has to this day.
When he was three years old, we decided to return to England to live and we brought seven dogs, including Bonzo, to live in Chipping Norton in the Cotswolds. They soon settled down to English life, and there is nothing Bonzo enjoys more than a nice cup of tea!
He sunbathes in warm weather and wears a woolly jumper when it’s cold. In the evenings he lies on the sofa, covered up with his woolly blanket, and snores loudly.
He’s a lovely fellow, getting quite an old boy now, but has plenty of energy and enjoys walking in the fields with the other dogs.
LIKES anything to eat
DISLIKES small male dogs
FINEST HOUR having a massage
Jenny Hayward, Chipping Norton
Frodo, blind genius
ORIGINALLY FRODO came, with his brother Bilbo, from the animal shelter to live with my neighbour and her three other cats. Frodo found fitting in with his new family hard. He started to jump over the fence into our garden to seek peace and quiet. He spent more and more time here, and finally wheedled his way into the house. He was put out at night to go home, but would climb onto the roof and scratch on our bedroom window at three in the morning. We eventually let him sleep over.
Last year, I noticed his eyes were cloudy. The vet said that he was completely blind, which was a shock. How long he had been like that I don’t know, but he was getting around just fine at home. He had some tests, and is on pills for high blood pressure. I thought he might have to become a house cat, but soon after he was diagnosed I left a window open and he was off, returning soon afterwards. I decided to let him live his life exactly as before, and he copes very well, only bumping into things that have been left out of place.
I sometimes see him on the roof of the house, and my heart skips a beat when he jumps onto the garage roof, but he knows what he is doing.
He is a truly contented cat, and returns to my neighbour from time to time for a meal.
He is eighteen now, and everything is well in Frodo’s world.
LIKES fillet steak, hot-water bottles and the television quiz show The Chase
DISLIKES the same menu two days running
FINEST HOUR finally being accepted into the house
Jane Howard, Cheltenham
Sonya, dachshund
THE FIRST sign of trouble flaring up came when Sonya, one of our two dachshunds, started to lag behind on our walks. Our vet said that she had spinal problems, and prescribed anti-inflammatories and total rest. Things deteriorated over Christmas. The temperature dropped and the snow came down. One night, Sonya could hardly walk around the garden and she collapsed in the flower bed. On New Year’s Eve, she had an emergency operation at a veterinary hospital. There was no certainty of a successful outcome, but we had no option: the surgeon advised that there was no chance of a normal life for Sonya without it.
We heard news of the outcome just before midnight. The operation had gone well, but it was too early to predict whether it would be successful in the long term.
The freezing weather continued: new snow fell on old snow and was over a foot deep in parts. The roads had become more and more difficult to negotiate. Still, we managed to get Sonya home, despite the conditions.
We dug a circular track for her out of the snow in the garden. With a sling under her back legs to provide her with support, she managed the short walk. Slowly she strengthened, and we dug out a longer walk in the snow so that she could totter around a bit more. We were lucky: now she has recovered almost all her former mobility.
The joy it gives us every day to see her walking, running and playing with our other dachshund is almost indescribable, and never will we forget that snow.
LIKES caravan holidays
DISLIKES postmen
FINEST HOUR first day home from the breeder, a four-legged friend to greet her, a large garden to play in and a warm soft bed all to herself
James Dutton, Daventry
Manuka, micro pig
SHE WAS born on 2 January 2010, the smallest of a litter of six piglets, the most beautiful sandy-brown colour and as cute as a button. On the third day of her life something terrible happened: the heat lamp that was keeping them warm in the cold weather fell into the bedding and the hot wire seared through this little piglet’s thigh right to the bone.
Although the wound was cauterized by the heat, it was very nasty indeed. She was found cold and limp in the corner of the farrowing shed on our pig farm. She was immediately brought inside, wrapped in a blanket and placed on top of the radiator.
Then the worst happened – she stopped breathing. What to do? Mouth-to-mouth and heart massage started. After about five minutes she began breathing again. Then the intensive care started. Tiny amounts of fluids were fed to her hourly through the night to keep her strength up, and by the morning she was able to stand on all four tiny trotters.
Although she was getting stronger, the wound was serious, so the decision was taken to treat it with manuka honey, as I had heard it had well-documented healing properties.
Over the next five days the piglet continued to improve with round-the-clock three-hourly feeds, and the wound healed completely. The tissue regenerated itself almost before our eyes – it was amazing. My other animals, especially Hector the cat and Daisy Doo the dog, bonded with her, and she used the cat flap to go outside. She developed a cheeky, loving character. Now, nearly a year on, she is an extremely healthy, happy pig. Her name? Manuka, of course!
LIKES belly rubbing
DISLIKES getting up early
FINEST HOUR discovering how to open the crisp cupboard
Jane Croft, Cambridgeshire
Parsley, adventurer
HE WAS about a year old when he came to us, crying outside the back door. We had three other cats, so after a good feed we showed
him the door. Four cats was probably one too many, and in any case it looked as if he belonged to somebody else.
The next morning he was back again. He was allowed to stay until we found his true home. A notice in the village brought a family from a couple of miles away, and they took him away; two days later, he was back. The owners were tired of collecting him. The other three cats accepted him, although Rosie, our rescue matriarch, was not entirely happy. She used to box his ears, though Parsley never made a fuss.
He was a grand chap, full of fun and affectionate, too. He loved living with us and his companions in the countryside around. He sometimes came for a walk with us, and managed to get a rabbit through the cat flap on at least two occasions, and once we found a pair of furry ‘trousers’ underneath the stairs.
It was his adventurous spirit which eventually got him into trouble. After about ten years with us, he disappeared for a long time. I put up a notice in the village. Fifteen days later, a woman rang my bell to say that she thought she had found Parsley. He was 100 yards up the road, underneath a hedge, with a four-pound steel gin trap with a three-inch spike on his right front leg.
Rather than putting him down, the vet had to amputate. Ten days later, he was back again and after a period of recuperation was full of beans and could even cope with the cat flap. I told the police and RSPCA; the local farm was very angry about the trap.
Parsley got slower and slower. Eventually he couldn’t get out through the cat flap, so we used to carry him out and put him on the grass in the sunshine. We had to rush out and get him in if it rained. Finally, this year, when he must have been twenty-one, he could not get up after falling over, and we knew the end had come. After giving him a last cuddle, we took him on a one-way trip.
LIKES lying peacefully in the sun
Charmers and Rogues Page 5