I received this wonderful set of writing prompts on Sunday. Tonight, I cracked the box open.
There are some fabulous prompts in here, great for when you have no idea what to write - which, with a head mussy with the full moon and a few other things going on, having these prompts are a godsend.
Anyway, the card I picked for today said talk about the animals in my life.
Which, for me, is a good one as I've had a lot of animals in my life so far. Animals have entry and exits. Animals help to make you who you are.
If I start from when I was a young child:
There was Soxy, a big fluffy long-haired domestic cat. He was friendly. He used to belong to my grandparents, but they gave him to Mum. (This will be recurring theme for the cats in our lives). He was very gentle. The first cat I could pick up. He died at Myponga when I was about ten. Lovely boy.
Then there was Fred. Fred was pure white. He was also a bastard. He was Dad's cat. Dad could do anything with him, but nobody else could. He used to sit on the balcony and swipe the heads of visitors as they walked past. Being all white, he got cancer and ended up with one eye and half and ear. He did mellow as time went on, but he never lost that renegade streak. In the words of a family friend, my mother has always had antisocial cats.
We had Wimpy for a while. She was grey and white and was missing half of her tail. We got her from the neighbours. She lost her tail when the neighbour's dog tried to drag the kittens out from under the sideboard, biting their tails off instead. She was a lovely cat. She and Mum bonded. When Mum got home from work, she and Wimpy went for a nap for an hour. We're pretty sure a snake got her, dying in the woodshed behind the back door.
Janette Tiger Mugford was a ginger stray that turned up pregnant on the doorstep. She too, got taken by a snake, but we kept one of her kittens, Meggsy, who was born in the woodpile.
Meggsy was a shy cat - find with the family. A big ginger tom, he was great at catching mice. Although he didn't like people that much, when my grandmother broke her hip, he sat next to her on the bed for six weeks while she recuperated. Underneath there was a heart of gold.
Ugly didn't last that long. She was a donation from the neighbours, a little torty with really distinctive markings, hence calling her Ugly. She had a gorgeous nature on her - very friendly. Unfortunately, she had no road sense and got run over at a young age. But she really was a glorious cat.
Oh, then there was Mystery. Mystery came to us from my cousin, who was divorcing her husband and moving to Tasmania. She was glorious. Other than having the worst breath on the planet and a propensity for drinking out of pretty much any body of water, from toilets, shower stalls, fish bowls... you name it, she'd drink it. She also had a great nature on her, and she was vocal. She was hilarious. It was a mystery whether she was part Siamese or not. She didn't get on with Meggsy, nor Mum's next neurotic cat, Freda the Bitch.
And as for cats, I now have Lucifer. I've had him for five years in March. He's now seven. He seems to be slowing down a little - and becoming a little more tolerant of people, although pissing on his cat sitter's car parts has won him no friends.
And growing up, there was dogs.
Sheba was a Border Collie Kelpie cross. She was the best dog in the world. She turned up when I was eight years old and hung around until I left for England. I still miss her. She had puppies on my bed. She had a beautiful nature on her. Being part working dog, she was very good at rounding up the chooks. And she loved me. She also liked to look after little things. Wonderful dog.
Our other dog, Pud, was a Border Colllie cross who came from the next-door neighbour. Poor thing was charged by a goat by as a youngster and was frightened of most things. He particularly hated thunderstorms - as an outside dog, we let him in the kitchen when there were storms about. Although he was a sweet dog, he was pretty useless. Sheba was far more mellow.
And added to all of this we had a pony named Pebbles, as well as many poddy calves who we fed until they were ready to go out to the paddock.
Oh, and I should mention Maow Maow.
Maow Maow used to be Blarney and Barney's cat. We imprinted on each other. It was love at first sight. Although he lived over the Westgate, we made a pact with each other that we were each other's being. Love, love, loved that cat. Just a grey and white ball of love. I still miss him. He's buried under a rose bush at Blarney and Barney's place. Gone too soon.
I'm getting all nostalgic. Time to go.
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