Pets...I've had a few...

...with apologies to Sinatra...

Pets. I have had a few
But then again, too many to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw each one through despite the relentless poo, huge cost and massive frustration
I planned each meal, each flea and worm treatment
Each careful stroke… for fear of injury
And more, much more than this, I did it THEIR way

I could go on but instead let’s cut to the chase. The fact is that all of the pets I have ever owned have always had it THEIR way ( like all pets) and this current situation that I find myself in is no exception.

Let’s start with a quick recap on pets I have owned - in ALL cases our pets have been rescued - even the equines among them so here goes:

Cats - too many to mention - all bringing their own recipe of grief, worry and enormous independence and then dying dramatically.

My own in depth research has shown that ALL cats think all humans are idiots and ALL cats are in charge. We exist purely to serve them and once you accept that, EVERYTHING makes sense.

Dogs - dog grief is unbearable - we haven’t had one since we lost our adorable black lab Jack in 2020. He’s the one that famously ate Christmas along with several entire wheels of cheese including a whole stilton and many baguettes and birthday cakes. It got to the point where we had a birthday cake for the recipient and a back up cake because there was a real risk that Jack would just break into the pantry and eat one.

Gorgeous husband and lovely Jack - full of cake and cheese

One year we had been beyond tardy in our approach to Christmas shopping preferring to waft around like we were in a festive movie, going here, drinking there, enjoying the Christmas spirit a little too much, lashing a Christmas tree to the top of our car and basically being overtaken by the romance of it all, and then we realised we hadn’t really bought many gifts. I think this was also the year we invited 18 people for lunch but didn’t have enough tables and chairs so went and bought a whole new set also on Christmas Eve, but I may be wrong.

We hot footed it to Bicester Village and at the time there was a Carluccio’s there so we loaded up the car with fabulous hampers and boxes of festive delights feeling utterly smug that yes we had waited until Christmas Eve but look at what we have done! Aren’t we clever! Isn’t life lovely! Everyone will be so delighted! Such treats!

We arrived home and arranged all the beautifully wrapped gifts under and around the tree - it looked like a page from Country Living magazine and we were DELIGHTED with our efforts. We spent at least 45 minutes smugly recounting to each other that there was no point in starting your Christmas shopping early because LOOK what we have done. Marvellous. Such a thrill!

Of course we needed to celebrate this festive win with a G&T so popped to the pub. We had a high old time and regaled our weary friends with our smug story of BV and Christmas Eve shopping and the romance and joy of it all.

We returned home to discover we had not closed the door in the sitting room where all the beautifully wrapped and beribboned gifts had been artfully arranged and so Jack had decided to start early.

He was lying among wrapping paper, boxes, cartons, packets, wicker baskets…in a pool of vomit having consumed panatonnes, chocolates, biscuits, cheese, crackers, macarons…the wine survived but that was it. He had actually completely eaten Christmas.

I wish I had photos but I was absolutely beside myself when I saw the devastation and couldn’t breathe, let alone capture the disaster for posterity.

Anyway - back to the list…

Ponies and donkeys - probably, no definitely, my favourite of all pets - clever, loyal, beautiful and useful. See also lambs who we bottle fed and then allowed to grow into large sheep and come on dog walks with us - adorable.

Rodents in cages - or in actual fact rodents that should have been in cages but generally escaped. One did pull a curtain into its cage and ate it, another was found in the ventilator pipe for the tumble drier, and another ended up under the floorboards and then shimmied down a heating pipe through a hole in the ceiling while I was enjoying a glass of wine one evening. Absolute nightmare.

Then we had Dolce and Gabanna - a pair of Giant African Land Snails - rescued from a friend whose daughters had had enough of them. They arrived in a large glass tank and I put them on the Welsh Dresser - overnight they pushed the lid up and I found them on the shelves of the dresser like a couple of living ornaments. Disgusting but fascinating and I did feel sad for them. They lived for a long time enjoying banquets of lettuce and cuttlefish, eventually not returning from their winter hibernation which was quite a dark day. I phoned a GALS helpline for advice but it was abundantly clear they had in fact expired.

Actually massive in real life

So now we come to our latest acquisitions - Bruno (Now Bruno Mars-Tonioli-Brookes) named by me) and Mudge - two 17 year old black cats who have come to stay while their owner finds a new house.

Well…having not had pets for some time it has been a bit of a shock to be honest. I am very glad we have a small business making and selling scented candles because my god we are getting through them. I seem to spend my entire life dealing with the litter tray…

In week one and pretty much on day one, Mudge vanished. He looks a bit like a massive furry woodlouse and sort of glides along like a feline version of a hovercraft. Anyway, he slipped by us in all his fluffy trousered glory in a stealth move and was gone - for a whole bloody week. We didn’t tell our friend until it became absolutely necessary but it was a massively stressful week. My Dad had also just died so all a bit much in general. Quite a lot on.

We were briefed by our friend that they like to be outdoors and just come in for food and then clear off again so we just thought Mudge would wander back - but of course he didn’t so we started searching, put a call out on FaceBook, alerted our neighbours and even went back to his previous house to see if he had wandered back there. NOTHING. NO SIGN.

But also - no dead cat on the road so we took that as a win. Thankfully he did start popping back - every evening for supper outside the front of the house which was handy as we could capture him on the video doorbell. We tried and failed spectacularly to get him to come in but he was determined to stay out.

Then we decided the leave the kitchen door open and entice him in with kilos of Dreamies (for anyone who doesn’t know, Dreamies are basically addictive treats that cats go crazy for). I did (do) feel like I am encouraging them to be addicts but it’s all I have to go on. They don’t come when I call or listen to me unless I have Dreamies. Is this what a drug dealer feels like …? Answers on a postcard…

Having tried several times to creep up on him and close the kitchen door behind him, and been completely utterly useless and hopeless at it, we started to make a plan to build a complicated door closing contraption from rope that we could attach to the door handle and operate using a system of pulleys, levers and paperclips (or something ) by hiding in the downstairs bathroom and operating it all through the window.

We had MANY discussions about how best to initiate Operation Catch and were probably in design stage V13.0 with a substantial list on Amazon of all the equipment we would need, including a large net, body armour and face shields (he would literally take your face off) when Mudge got bored of the front garden and decided the back garden was much better.

GRRRRRRRR!

I somehow by some MIRACLE managed to entice him out of the back garden with armfuls of Dreamies leaving all our Heath Robinson plans destined to be firelighters.

Getting the cat in had occupied 23,000 hours but we did it.

They are both now reasonably happy pottering about in the garden in the day time, and happy to come in at night, as that’s when they get LOTS of Dreamies plus their dinner and THEN supper but they need their strength because night time is when they go into production kneading 359 loaves of bread on our chests/backs/legs/arms/heads while we try and sleep - utterly exhausted from literally herding cats.

And the best part of all of this is that even though they are brothers they HATE each other so it is a bit like it used to be when my teenage children lived here. Right - must dash I think, no…(*sniffs*) I KNOW…the cat tray needs emptying.

Lots of love,

About the author

I love a floral headband and a sequin jacket

I am a journalist, writer and TV producer and also the co-founder of this small artisan creative business I live in beautiful Oxfordshire with my husband Colin (AKA Mr A) and I really appreciate you stopping by to read my posts because I know how busy Substack (and life) can be. I am a daughter, sister, mum, step mum, grandma and auntie and write about my work, life, my family and our business.

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