HYDES’ HOPES BY REV MICHAEL HYDES

MY BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, EVIL FRED

Over the years Chris and I have lived with both cats and dogs, and presently share our home with a handsome hound called Odie. However no animal I've ever met was quite like Fred. In New York, Chris worked away a lot and I felt quite lonely of an evening. I thought a cat would help keep me company. Chris was okay with the idea, as long as we found one that had personality, that would be a part of the family and not just an occasional lodger.

I checked the local ads and found Fred. His owner was moving from NY to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne (my home town) and couldn't take him with her. The picture showed a handsome three-year-old British blue with emerald green eyes. I mentioned I was looking for a cat with personality. “Oh, don't worry” she said, “Fred has bags of personality.” It turned out that Fred had way too much personality for one animal. If we left him alone he wrecked the place. He disembowelled cushions, scratched furniture and urinated on clothing. We took to locking him in the bathroom when we went out simply to limit the damage. But he’d get into the bathroom cabinet and pull everything out into the sink. We put trays of water on top of boxes of medication so that if he pulled them out he'd get wet. It worked. He stopped pulling stuff out of the bathroom cabinet and shredded the shower curtain instead.

One night I came home, and instead of paying him attention I went straight to the computer to send an email I'd forgotten to send earlier in the day. Fred was so angry with the rejection that he defecated on the bed behind me; three feet way from me, as I sent the email. Not some little easy-to-clean turd. Nope: the biggest, sloppiest, smelliest mess imaginable. I could hear it, and smell it. I turned around. The look on his face said: ‘Now ignore me’.

We got a little cat to keep him company. He tortured her. We had a guest visit from the UK. Fred urinated in his suitcase. We got a dog. Fred became obese. We couldn't work out the connection until we found him buried deep in the sack of dog food gorging himself. Alas, the salt level in dog food is way too high for a cat. Fred developed kidney problems and a urinary tract infection. The vet had to remove his penis. He was extra affectionate the day he came home from the vet. I think he even tolerated our other cat and the dog. But by the following day he was as ornery as ever.

Fred lived to the grand old age of 21. I did wonder if he'd mellow with age, but he never changed. The day we had to let him go he gorged himself on chicken and then sat for an age by the bowl. On the other side of the glass panelled kitchen door the dogs were salivating in the hope that he'd leave something for them. Daft dogs, the only interest Fred had was in torturing them. Fred was an absolute pain. I had to make sure that everything was washable, all food was out of reach (he'd be half way through a loaf of bread if you were dumb enough to leave it out), and visitors had to be warned that it was never the dogs they needed to be afraid of. And I miss him so much. My beautiful, wonderful, evil Fred.