I have mentioned here before that the relationship with my mother was less than ideal. This goes back a long way and one day I might delve a bit deeper into that particular aspect of my life.
Today, though, we are back in late 1973. I was about to sit my Higher School Certificate (VCE, year 12, whatever you want to call it). Mother's behaviour was worse than usual (which I later realised, as an adult, was down to an over fondness of the products of the grape and which she particularly indulged in on a Friday night as she didn't have to get up at 5 to get dad off to work). This behaviour inevitably resulted in me being woken late in the evening by my father asking me to do something as she was threatening to leave home as I didn't need her anymore. Forget my father or two younger brothers. I would literally have to grovel at her feet and beg her not to leave. Even writing this now, nearly 50 years later, makes me feel uncomfortable and a little bit sick. Needless to say I couldn't wait to leave home. I nearly abandoned my studies but common sense prevailed. I sat the exams in November '73, 2 months after turning 17, heard that I had passed while staying with my aunt in Biloela after Christmas (yes that Biloela) and as soon as I returned home I started looking for somewhere to live. I had landed a job at a pharmacy so had my own income. A school acquaintance was also looking to move out so we found a place together.
The pharmacy job didn't last and I found a job working as a receptionist for LifeLine. It was about this time I realised I needed an animal. I can't remember how, but I managed to get a kitten I called Shnooks. She was a grey and white little thing and I loved her.
Around the middle of the year Jenny, my flatmate, decided to move back home to save money. There was no way I could afford the place on my own and my father worked with someone who had a one bedroom flat I could have. Mother informed me I wasn't allowed to take the cat. I later figured out that wasn't true but even then I never disputed what she told me. She offered to take the cat and renamed her Mehitabel.
I bought a budgie. She was called Budge. Yes, I was original in my naming. At least it was something to talk to in my quiet flat. After a while I decided she needed a friend and Claude the budgie joined us.
Another job change (this time a vet), a change in boy friends (dumped one, found another, got dumped) and then I found Himself. When we met in 1975 he was still married but separated, had Stepson who was not quite two and a black lab called Bo.
We decided to move in together (shock horror in 1976) in St Kilda. Bo had to be rehomed but Budge and Claude came with us. Budge met her demise when Stepson came for a weekend visit and, unbeknownst to me, emptied their food and water. Yes, I should have checked - I in no way blame a 3year old kid! We rehoused Claude with a family. I think he met his demise when their cat fancied a snack. I have not had birds again and am quite against the whole concept now.
In 1979 we were now married and living in another flat in North Caulfield. Mother was active in the local dramatic society and a cat had decided to deposit a litter of kittens in the hall that housed their stage. "Come and see them before I take them to the vet to be put down", she said. And that is how we ended up with Domina (a lady) and Rozzy (a nice thing). She kept the mum and the other two kittens had already been claimed. And she knew damn well we would be taking the two remaining kittens.
In 1980 we bought our first house in Ormond. Himself worked with someone who knew someone who had a litter of german shepherd puppies. Hexe (German for witch and the name of his grandmother's childhood shepherd) came into our lives. She was a beautiful dog. One was born in 1984 and she kept a close eye on him.
In 1986 we built a new house in Rowville that had no fences. The in-laws offered to take Hexe until the fences could be built. And there she stayed. To be honest, it suited us as Two was a new baby and we lived in the sticks (as Rowville was back then) with only one car. The fences took a good while to be built as they started developing the farmland behind us.
In 1988 with Three on the way we bought a house in East Bentleigh. Close to things and people we were familiar with and away from a very crazy, scary neighbour I had to call the police out to more than once. We boarded our cats at the vet. Just before we took them in I noticed that Domina had something growing out of her nose. It turned out to be an aggressive tumour and nothing could be done. So we had to let her go.
A couple of years later I was down staying with my parents in Gippsland and Himself came home to Rozzy's body in the gutter. We could only assume she had been hit by a car.
NO MORE ANIMALS said himself.
So 6 weeks later we adopted two black and white female cats from the Lost Dogs' Home. They were initially named Holly and Muffin (young kids ok?). One was much smaller than the other and became known as The Runt. As in "which cat is that - the runt or t'other?" So to all, other than the kids, they were Runt and T'other.
We bought another German Shepherd pup from a pet shop when such things were still allowed. She was called Sucha. Sucha good dog. Sucha bad dog. Hexe had gone over the rainbow bridge by this stage. Years later we decided to pull down and rebuild and needed to move into a rental with poor fencing. You guessed it. Sucha went to stay with the inlaws. Just before we were due to move back into the new house T'Other became unwell. A stay at the vet showed she was in kidney failure. Nothing could be done.
We moved and shortly thereafter Runt when down the same path. This time my brother the then vet was able to come and put her to sleep at our place.
NO MORE ANIMALS.
"Oh mum, I want this one" said One holding a tiny scrap of a female calico kitten. Who came home with a gorgeous tabby and white male. Thomas and Sheba. From the moment we got them home they hated each other. They could barely be in the same room let alone on the same bed. We managed. They didn't fight, just hissed and moved away.
In 2007 we decided to move again. This time it was a town house in a bayside suburb. A tiny back yard but close to wetlands which allowed for long, long walks. There were snakes aplenty (although I never saw any) and we had the courtyard cat-proofed with an electric fence. Three wanted to mount GI Joes on each corner. The cats could come and go inside and outside but couldn't leave the property and other cats couldn't get in.
One Saturday a couple of years later Himself agreed that we could get a dog - as long as it was a German Shepherd. I struck while the iron was hot. On the Sunday we drove way over to the other side of town past the airport to pick up Angus. He was a handful. I found out the hard way that the majority of people that walked on the beach had a) white fluffies and b) thought the beach was theirs. A boisterous 4 month old shepherd did not go down well. We decided he needed a companion so 7 months later we got his half sister, Bonnie. (Angus Young and Bon Scott anyone?)
In February the following year (2012) Tom became unwell very quickly. A trip to the out of hours vet (isn't it always?) and he was in multi-organ failure. The cause was unknown but he couldn't hold his oxygen levels on his own and Himself held him as he was put to sleep. He left a huge hole.
A few weeks later we were at the shopping centre and the pet shop had kittens. They had 4 males all from the same litter. There was one in particular who would hide and cower at the back of the cage. I was concerned that he could be bought by a family with young children and be terrified. He came home with us. From the beginning he rarely, if ever, meowed but would run round and round the house at great speed. Three observed that he was like The Stig - goes round in circles very quickly and doesn't say a word. The name stuck. He went a long way to filling the hole that Tom had left. Sheba became quite maternal in her old age.
One evening, not long after, we went out for dinner. (Himself had been made redundant some months prior and we were celebrating a potential job). When we got home we found that the dogs had managed to open the back door and let themselves in. Up til now we hadn't separated the dogs and cats but the dogs were not allowed in the house if we were out. To our horror we found Sheba dead on the carpet. The Stig was hiding under the bed. Sheba was wet as if she had been licked but otherwise appeared uninjured. The vet said it looked like the sad result of rough play. She said if the dog/s had intended to kill her there would have been more damage. Her back had been broken probably as the result of shaking. To this day I question why people give dogs small fluffy squeaky toys that resemble animals and then wonder why they cause damage when they play with small fluffy squeaky animals.
The next day we went to an animal rescue place. I didn't want The Stig growing up to be an only cat. Himself picked a little black cat. We brought her home and she disappeared. And then re-appeared from nowhere. She climbed up the kitchen wall onto the bench. She was a Ninja!
I was understandably paranoid and the dogs and cats never mixed again. We would let the dogs in and put the cats in our bedroom/ensuite. The cats had the run of the house if the dogs were outside. By this stage the cats were indoors only with the run of the balcony upstairs.
In 2014 after eventually finding work in Sydney and commuting for 2 years Himself reluctantly retired. He really struggled and in 2017 decided he wanted a larger property with a decent workshop/garage.
We moved here.
Angus rarely came into the house. He wouldn't come up the back stairs and refused to walk on the deck. which made getting inside a challenge. Bonnie became an indoor/outdoor dog and the cats and she lived together in relative harmony. Don't worry about Angus, though. He lived in the garage which had a heater in the cold weather, plenty of carpets and Himself was down with him every day. He also got walked far and wide. Bonnie also seemed happier. I think Angus was a bit of a bully.
Towards the end of 2019 Ninja suddenly lost a lot of weight and became very unsteady on her feet with no apparent reason. It was decided to have her put to sleep.
Over the years I had noticed Angus would drag his rear feet when walking. Eventually we got a diagnosis of degenerative myelopathy, sadly not uncommon in this breed. In February 2020, just after I had my knee replaced, it became obvious that his time had come. He had sores on the top of his feet from dragging, was struggling to stand and was very wobbly when doing his business. We had seen the vet at the start of the year and he had told us no more than 6 months. We had scoffed as Angus seemed fine. Six weeks later the end had come.
Himself was devastated as Angus was his dog. Considering the issues we had with him over the years he had been a very lucky dog. Most would have had him put down long ago. We just learned how to manage him and his issues.
Bonnie became my rehab companion. She had arthritis and the two of us would slowly walk together. She listened to my woes as we walked.
One morning in May Himself started yelling for me to come quickly. Bonnie had collapsed under a bush and could barely walk. The vet was not hopeful. A scan showed bleeding tumours in her liver and spleen. If we wanted to say goodbye we needed to get back to the vet straight away as she was, essentially, bleeding out. Himself went back. I had already said goodbye when we left her. I knew that look in the vet's eyes.
NO MORE DOGS said Himself. The Stig agreed. I think he liked being an only animal.
So I went online and found a breeder with a litter due in July. Sadly there weren't enough pups in the litter but then I found Jinx's breeder. In the middle of our hard lockdown with a ring of steel I drove to country Victoria and picked her up. She is named after her mother. The Stig reluctantly accepted her as long as she knew who was boss.
After a few months and seeing how much she loved other dogs we decided to get another. I had always wanted a long haired shepherd and we sourced Murphy Jnr from a breeder in northern NSW. He flew into Melbourne on a cold, windy rainy day in April from sunny Tweed Heads. All the way back from the airport he voiced his opinion.
I have talked about the loss of the Stig (I still miss him) and the acquisition of our current two mogs this year.
You are now up to date.
When this lot go I think it will be NO MORE ANIMALS.
But that is years away and things can change.
