The Little Animals
Originally posted @ http://scruffy-duck.net
I’ve had a lot of little animals in my time, from hamsters to little dogs.
I always had rabbits, from when I was a toddler. I had this massive thing called Fluffy when I was about three, that was actually as big as I was. At least that’s how I remember it, and I don’t remember it well. I do remember being afraid of it, because it bit me.
A lot of our rabbits escaped, and often. Usually they ended up in our neighbours garden, a lovely old lady called Elsie I think. We used to just go into her garden cause after a while it was worse to ask and get her up, than it was to go in without permission to reclaim our rabbits.
We only took one rabbit when we moved to Wales, we only had one by then, another beast of a bunny called Oddsocks, so called because he had one black ear and one black and white ear. He was lovely and lived a long time, I remember getting him from the shop years and years ago.
My sister had a lot of mad pets. She had a hamster called Messypups, a name that fit him so well. He used to eat my sister’s curtains, because they lay on his cage and his bedding would be all over my sisters room. She also had this white rabbit called Snowball, who had evil red eyes and was evil. She bit everyone.
I had a Guinea Pig called Tommy, who shock all the time, and shared his hutch with Oddsocks in the end. You could walk past the cage and not see him because he would be hiding behind the rabbit.
God, I had so many rabbits.
My Cairn Terrier was called Danny. He was a runt, and mum and Jay hadn’t expected him to actually live as long as he did. Jay’s original estimate had only been two years, he was a pet to help us settle into Wales once we moved. He wasn’t expected to live long because as well as wonky teeth, he also had white spots in his eyes, which often suggested a hole in the heart. He lived for ten years.
His wonky teeth meant he couldn’t actually break the skin, they stuck out so he could leave a nice indent but he never broke the skin of anything really. He smelt a lot, and would sleep in our beds. At one point we weren’t getting any sleep, because he would wake us up in the middle of the night, attacking our feet as we moved in our sleep (my sister and I were both fidgeters) thinking it was some sort of duvet monster trying to get him. In the end we had to get a baby gate put in so he couldn’t get up into our room (we didn’t have a door).
He wasn’t particularly clever and didn’t run very fast, so if a chicken got into the garden, the best way to get it back into the fields was to let Danny chase after it, because it would soon hop back over the fence and Danny couldn’t jump that high.
When we stayed with my dad and grandparents, my grandad sort of took Danny on as his own dog. He’d had a cairn terrier in the past (and an Alsatian at the same time, an odd duo), and would walk him and take him to the shop. When Danny ever went missing you could usually find him up the shop or down by Tesco waiting for my grandad. Silly dog. Once, my grandad left him tied up by the trolleys outside Tesco’s and the manager called us up, saying that he was scaring the shoppers away. I laughed because Danny growled a lot, but he was incapable of hurting anyone.
When he got old and senile (and smeller) he used to lie under the sofa, and the blanket that covered it reached almost to the ground so you could just see his nose. He’d lie there and growl if you came to close, and attack your ankles when you sat down.
When he died I cried so much. Poor little Danny.
I haven’t got any pets at the moment. My ex had a cockateil that never lived in her cage and liked beer and wine a bit too much. I hope that when I get my own place to get a dog and some rats.
I’ve had a lot of little animals in my time, from hamsters to little dogs.
I always had rabbits, from when I was a toddler. I had this massive thing called Fluffy when I was about three, that was actually as big as I was. At least that’s how I remember it, and I don’t remember it well. I do remember being afraid of it, because it bit me.
A lot of our rabbits escaped, and often. Usually they ended up in our neighbours garden, a lovely old lady called Elsie I think. We used to just go into her garden cause after a while it was worse to ask and get her up, than it was to go in without permission to reclaim our rabbits.
We only took one rabbit when we moved to Wales, we only had one by then, another beast of a bunny called Oddsocks, so called because he had one black ear and one black and white ear. He was lovely and lived a long time, I remember getting him from the shop years and years ago.
My sister had a lot of mad pets. She had a hamster called Messypups, a name that fit him so well. He used to eat my sister’s curtains, because they lay on his cage and his bedding would be all over my sisters room. She also had this white rabbit called Snowball, who had evil red eyes and was evil. She bit everyone.
I had a Guinea Pig called Tommy, who shock all the time, and shared his hutch with Oddsocks in the end. You could walk past the cage and not see him because he would be hiding behind the rabbit.
God, I had so many rabbits.
My Cairn Terrier was called Danny. He was a runt, and mum and Jay hadn’t expected him to actually live as long as he did. Jay’s original estimate had only been two years, he was a pet to help us settle into Wales once we moved. He wasn’t expected to live long because as well as wonky teeth, he also had white spots in his eyes, which often suggested a hole in the heart. He lived for ten years.
His wonky teeth meant he couldn’t actually break the skin, they stuck out so he could leave a nice indent but he never broke the skin of anything really. He smelt a lot, and would sleep in our beds. At one point we weren’t getting any sleep, because he would wake us up in the middle of the night, attacking our feet as we moved in our sleep (my sister and I were both fidgeters) thinking it was some sort of duvet monster trying to get him. In the end we had to get a baby gate put in so he couldn’t get up into our room (we didn’t have a door).
He wasn’t particularly clever and didn’t run very fast, so if a chicken got into the garden, the best way to get it back into the fields was to let Danny chase after it, because it would soon hop back over the fence and Danny couldn’t jump that high.
When we stayed with my dad and grandparents, my grandad sort of took Danny on as his own dog. He’d had a cairn terrier in the past (and an Alsatian at the same time, an odd duo), and would walk him and take him to the shop. When Danny ever went missing you could usually find him up the shop or down by Tesco waiting for my grandad. Silly dog. Once, my grandad left him tied up by the trolleys outside Tesco’s and the manager called us up, saying that he was scaring the shoppers away. I laughed because Danny growled a lot, but he was incapable of hurting anyone.
When he got old and senile (and smeller) he used to lie under the sofa, and the blanket that covered it reached almost to the ground so you could just see his nose. He’d lie there and growl if you came to close, and attack your ankles when you sat down.
When he died I cried so much. Poor little Danny.
I haven’t got any pets at the moment. My ex had a cockateil that never lived in her cage and liked beer and wine a bit too much. I hope that when I get my own place to get a dog and some rats.