Inhalt

Paws for Thought

By Robert Hopkins on behalf of Charlie and Spite

Dedicated to C & S

All images are referenced and credited in the List of Illustrations at the end of this book

Introduction

Once upon a time I existed without a pet around my home. I think of those days as the dark ages. Then the enlightenment arrived with a dog called Charlie and a cat called Spite.

They have become my firm friends and companions. They bring happiness and laughter to every day that I've been with them.

They are far better stress-busters than bubble-wrap.

Even when I want a little bit of peace and quiet and they won't let me, they unfailingly offer unconditional affection at all times. Unless you are my postman.

They are clever and intuitive and Charlie and I both know the golden rule.

The cat is the boss.

This book is a remembrance of some of my life and times with Charlie and Spite. Even though they are still with me there needs to be a written memoir of our times together.

If one day my memory fades then someone can read this book to me and I'll smile and be the happier for it.

In the Beginning

There are people who think you have to be either a cat person or a dog person. Good luck to them. If your furry friend has to be either a cat OR a dog then you are missing out on half the pleasure and fun of living with one or the other.

As I'm a happy owner of two pets(one of each), the feline/canine debate doesn't touch me.

'But which do you prefer?' I'm asked.

Well do you prefer apples or oranges. Why not enjoy both? And if I want an apple pie then later I might want some marmalade on my toast.

'Don't they fight?'

Yes, constantly when they first met and then less and less since. See the later chapter entitled 'a swat on the nose'

But by and large they have learnt to co-exist centred around their joint love of food, shelter, and being petted.

It began when I lived alone and thought it would be a good thing to rescue a cat or dog and provide it with a pleasant place to exist. My thoughts were of unremitting animal affection and the constant companionship that only a friendly pet can provide.

So where did it all start to go crazy?

HOMES WANTED FOR KITTENS

Ran the advertisement. I rang up. They had one left. I went the very same evening and the daughter of the house (maybe 10 or 11) brought out a small orange bundle that turned out to be a kitten wrapped up in a blanket. 'Is that to keep him warm?' I asked.

Note to the interested reader - most ginger cats are male but not all.

'No' she said, 'it's to stop him scratching me' - first warning ignored.

'Does he have a name then?'

'We call him Spite' - second warning ignored.

'How many kittens were in the litter'

'5, he's the last one'

'And nobody has been to see him then?'

'Oh we've had a few but they did not want him. They said he was a little lively'- third and last warning ignored.

'Can I hold him?'

'Do you have any gloves?' she said, looking at me with a questioning look.

'I'll be all right. I'll be careful'

She passed over the small furry body still wrapped in a blanket. There was no weight to the bundle, it sat in one hand. Spite was asleep and I detected a contented purr flowing out of the blanket. I tentatively stroked the cat between the ears. This is a sure-fire way to please a cat. I've had cats before and this is the go-to technique. A small paw moving at a speed that might confound a physicist smacked into my finger. That's an ouch and a small pinpoint of blood formed on the finger.

The young girl did not flinch 'I think he likes you' she said.

'Likes me? I queried.

'He normally hangs on and bites' she advised.

The kitten has settled back into the blanket.

'We don't charge for the kittens' she said 'but if you wanted to make a donation that would be helpful'

I suspected that I was being railroaded but the kitten had a certain cuteness and I thought (wrongly) that any 'negative' behaviour would mitigate over time (wrong again).

'How much of a donation would be helpful' I asked, sucking my finger to hopefully drive the price down.

'£10 would be fine' she said, 'we've had to feed and cloth him for 5 weeks'

I wondered what outfit the kitten might be wearing until I released she was probably using an expression she'd picked up from her parents.

'That'll be fine' I said, 'does he come with anything?'

'Just as he is, but you can have the blanket'

'Bargain' and I handed over the £10 and was given in a most careful manner the bundle of joy that was going to terrorise my home for so many long years.

'Take good care of him'. And she looked genuinely concerned. 'Don't worry I will' I was trying to ease her concerns until she spoke.

'We don't want him back thanks'

She skipped back into the house where a small trickle of applause welcomed her. Strange that.

The kitten was placed in a box I'd brought with me and I started the car and headed home.

Home is where the heart is - oh and my dog.

Hounded

Haven't I mentioned the dog?

Three weeks before I'd travelled to a rescue centre with the intention of finding a small terrier-like animal. All of the rescue centres had pictures of their dogs online and there was an attractive little animal looking up at the camera with the saddest face I'd ever seen. His name was Charlie (friendly name right?) My heart was suitable touched and I went to have a look at the dog and see what I could make of him.

The dog centre was all fine, a mixture of kennels and rescue centre. There were several volunteers there happily walking the dogs, a few at a time. I introduced myself to the owner of the centre and said I was hear to look at the terrier - Charlie.

'We don't have a terrier by that name but there is a Charlie here. Come have a look'

He led me into the compound past cage after cage of mainly staffies until we reached the last cage. And there was Charlie - cute as anything. Small as a... The picture of Charlie had been taken top down and all that was in the photo was a head and shoulders. Charlie stood up or rather unfolded. He had very long legs and an equally long body. He was wagging his tail hard enough to move his rear from side to side and trying to lick my fingers through the cage.

'What is he' The beast I was looking at was several sizes up from a terrier.

'He's a lurcher - half greyhound and half collie. He's a good dog, just needs a firm hand'

'Right I said. Why was he brought in?'. Always a good question to ask.

'His previous owner could not handle him - he's was too strong for her'

Well if it's a question of strength I thought I'll be OK. I'm no lightweight.

'Any other issues'

'Not really. Just look up lurchers online and you'll get the drift. They make really good pets'

As it turned out that was being economical with the truth.

Charlie is a good dog. In his own way.

Lurchers

Originally bred (middle-ages) as a poacher's dog. Trained to catch small furry animals suitable for the pot. Usually a cross between a sight-hound and a working dog. Charlie is part greyhound, think lightening speed and agility crossed (deliberately!) with a collie - think intelligence and a desire to help. Gifted with wit, charm, and wisdom the lurcher can hit speeds of 30-35 miles per hour and pick off a bunny on the fly. They can also clear 5 foot fences (or around 1.5 metres) on the run.

If you are seeing a killing machine then yes but think affectionate dog with people and other dogs. Unfortunately your average lurcher has an extremely strong chase instinct. If your lurcher came with a manual it would say 'never let a lurcher off a lead' If you think of the list of animals in 'Old Macdonald's Farm' then Charlie would chase them all and possible all at once. He would not want to shake paws when he got to them.

Lurchers are often described as big cats; an hour or so a day of walking and they will sleep for the rest of the day, curled up somewhere warm and soft (if you foresee a problem with a kitten then please ring me a few years ago)

Charlie is without doubt the most intelligent pet I've ever had. That sounds like a big positive and it is up to a point. As we shall see intelligence can be a two sided sword.

Because of a lurcher's intelligence they are easier to train than most breeds and so Charlie has proved to be. I got him at age three and shortly thereafter felt comfortable taking him for walks and meeting people and other dogs. Then Spite arrived.

The Contenders

In one corner we have Charlie the lurcher. Two feet at the shoulder and around four feet long. 25 kilogrammes of muscle.

Armed with an array of teeth that would make Jaws think twice. His claws are great for digging - see a later chapter entitled 'whose garden is it anyway?'; faced with a spider or beetle of any kind he will jump up and down on it until it stops moving - presumably dead. His battles with insects seems to be rather one-sided but I forgive this as he can take flies out of the air. He just spits them out, jumps up and down on them, has a sniff and if the fly has any sense (they don't) hold in the urge to buzz.

Lurchers have great eyes, they can see a long way, they react to movement and can pick up sounds and smells to help them track and catch.

In the other corner is Spite, a ginger tom kitten. 4 inches at the shoulder and weighing nothing much at all.

Armed with tooth and claw and much more importantly a firm belief that cats trump dogs every day of the week.

If the above suggests a one-sided competition then you are right as we shall see.

Nitroglycerin

If you have the urge to experiment take a short stick. Approach a sleeping cat and prod gently once. If the stick has disappeared and your hand has been raked by any number of claws (as a general rule, cats will have a grand total of 18 claws each one sharpened to perfection. Cats also have 30 teeth and from personal experience do not mind using them), then you have a normal cat. If the stick has disappeared and the cat is now clinging to your arm and working its way up to your neck then you also have a normal cat. It's a small shift in temperament.

A quick calculation tells us that cats can strike (no other word suits) with 48 sharp things.

The little beggars are fast as well. Reactions akin to a snake on uppers. They are also Usain Bolt fast across the ground - say 27 mph. All in all a ballistic missile.

Cats have a rare ability to take-off vertically and seemingly increase in size. They also have an unearthly sound when threatened; imagine a large snake hissing mixed with a lion growling and an eagle shrieking. More than enough weaponry to halt any would be attacker in their tracks. Unless of course it's a dog that has never met a cat before. Guess what...?

Dogs are not stupid. They have taught us to home them, feed them, take them for walks and throw balls for them.

Cats are at least one step cleverer. Cats can't be bothered walking or chasing balls. If you throw a ball for a cat it will show indifference and carry on with whatever it was doing. If a cat wants you to do something it will let you know.

One on the Nose

A lurcher - a male hunting dog at that, has no reason to fear a kitten. None at all. But you might think that a sixth sense would warn a pooch about potential danger. Let's say on first meeting a snake or a tiger; there just has to be an instinctive common sense built in. You'd think so wouldn't you?

When I arrived home with Spite I came into my home with the kitten still in the box.

Charlie likes boxes. He associates them with shopping and biscuits and other treats. It's quite natural for him to stick his nose into everything - he can trust his sense of smell.

I sat down and did not need to call the dog over. He approached full of expectations of happy times. When he stands up he is easily tall enough to peer down into the box. He stuck his nose into the box into what he maybe thought was a ginger snap (he likes them) or a new fluffy toy. Events happened quickly, my fault. There was a sudden movement, a yelp and Charlie pulled back with a small kitten doggedly (get it) attached to his long nose. There was hissing and scratching. No cats were hurt during any of this. I had my hands on Spite and pulled him back into the box. His claws had an odd hair or two of Charlie's fur. Nasal fur at that.

Lesson learnt? Charlie is not stupid he really isn't. But he is excessively curious. He approached the box again - slowly this time. Spite was cleaning himself. Cleaning is of high priority in the cat world which would feel very strange to Charlie if he thought about it. As

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.06.2019
ISBN: 978-3-7487-0623-6

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