My Pets

Marita’s discussion has kicked off another idea to blog about.

My first pet, from photographic evidence and from being told by my mother, was a dog (golden retriever, I think) called Waggles or Waggie … Apparently, he died before making too much of a lasting impression on young Trish.

I had a pair of budgies called Peter and Paul, I think … hmmm, memories are a bit sketchy here … may have to check facts with my Mum. I know we used to have a large mirror above the mantlepiece in our old house, and many birds used to fly into it on occasions when we let them out of their cages! I think that at least one of the pair, Peter & Paul (go on, sing the song) flew into the mirror more than once. Maybe they died of internal trauma in the end?

My most significant pet was our dog Nosey. Though he was technically the family dog, he was my brother’s favourite friend. My brother would frequently tuck Nosey under his arm and ride off to the shops on his BMX. From what we were told, Nosey was a fox-terrier daschund x. Basically, a long foxie. He could jump rather high too. He was part of our family from when my brother was about 3 years old (1984) to 1995, when his vision and hearing let him down for the very last time as he stepped on to the busy road. My brother and I both stayed home from school that day and cried and hugged each other. My sister was only 4 at the time, so hadn’t known Nosey for as long as my brother and I, but she cried and hugged with us too … He was a good friend and a lousy guard dog – he would only bark at intruders if we were actually home. They could come and go as they pleased if we were out! Nosey was called ‘Nosey’ because when he was just a little puppy he stuck his nose into an old tomato tin and ended up with ants all over his face.

For some of the time we had Nosey, we also had Zack, who, it was reported, was son-of-Nosey. Puppy Zack stayed with us just long enough to annoy the hell out of old Nosey, before going to live on a farm with a different family. As to whether he really was son-of-Nosey, we’ll never know …

We’ve had a whole ocean full of fish pass through our house and our toilet bowl … The most memorable being Spot, who lived in the fish pond outside and grew to be a whopping, big, spotty fish. We’re rather original with our pet names sometimes …

For about 6 months when I was in primary school, we temporarily had a 3m long tank full of crabs in our house as they renovated the aquatic science buildings at what is now Deakin University in Warrnambool. We knew someone who worked there, so happily offered space to house the tank for a short time. The best bit about it was that my grade had an excursion to my house (short walk from the school) to see the crabs! They were rather entertaining to watch. We used to keep track of who faught who, and who had recently lost a leg in a fight. They all sported battle scars. We probably gave them names, but I can’t remember them.

After Nosey died, we got a hand-reared cockatiel called Penny. Penny used to sit on your shoulder as you went about your day, and was fond of toast and sips of tea. She chirped to let you know that someone was about to ring the doorbell, and had a psychic ability to know when Mum was about to walk through the front door. She had a memorable run-in with a couple of crows on the one occasion that she ventured beyond the back door, and her health was never too strong after that. You could say she was often poorly. Our local vet became somewhat of an expert on cockatiels with the visits Penny paid to him for her various complaints. As much as a dog or cat can be ‘one of the family’, so was Penny.

A little while after Penny succumbed to her lung complaint, my brother’s girlfriend (now fiance) hand-reared another cockatiel for us. He/she is called Cheeky. I say he/she, because while we were assured that Cheeky was a boy bird, he turned out to have the ability to lay eggs … Cheeky is a girl, and Carly has had to refine her techniques for sexing birds.

For my 21st birthday I was given a goldfish bowl with two fish in it. One always hid in the weed, so he was called Boo. He had a short life. The other was orange and googly-eyed and called Oscar. Oscar was the best companion that you could ever have in a goldfish, and I am convinced that he had more than a split-second memory! Oscar was rather good at playing dead, and so I had prepared myself well in advance when Oscar’s death finally came. I am yet to find a new occupant for Oscar’s old home. I have almost mourned for the appropriate amount of time …

The newest addition to the family occurred at Christmas last year, when my sister was given her dog, Lucky. He’s a very cute terrier, a bitser, who definitely has some border collie in him. He looks like a little border collie. His head and tail are border collie and his body is terrier/border collie/unknown. He was saved from the pound, and he loves his new home! He also loves his adopted brother and sister – my brother & his fiance’s two dalmations! Caesar & Cleo. When all three are in the yard, all you can see is black and white fur in a wriggling mass of playfulness!

Oh, and I almost forgot (and my mother would prefer it if I did) the mice that I had to bring home after we had bred them in science in year 7. Stinky things … Momentary lapse of common sense, she would say about her giving me permission to bring them home … Best left forgotten.

I don’t currently have a pet in my house, but I long for the day when I no longer live in rental properties and can have a big dog all of my own.

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~ by pincushiondiary on July 24, 2004.

 
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