John Nash: Furry friends

Furry friends

John Nash is a retired, well sort of retired, fruit farm manager in Kirdford who enjoys scribbling about life on the farm from the now to days gone by.

Christmas is coming folks. No turkeys, no presents, no booze… or so we have been warned for the last three months. Somehow, though, I think we will survive. It’s amazing how we do, despite the doom and gloom that the media delivers to us on a daily basis. No point buying stuff too early anyway, there’s no room in the cupboard, it’s full of toilet rolls!

One thing I have become aware of over the last 18 months or so is that there appears to have been a proliferation of pets. Everywhere you go so many folk seem to have the company of an extra four legs trotting alongside them. Big dogs, little dogs, snuffling squat-nosed dogs, and some apparently called labradoodles, cockapoos, puggles, and even goldendoodles.

Sorry if I upset some folks……but weren’t those last four types once just called mongrels?

Anyway, I wanted to reminisce about a couple of pets that I hold dear to my own heart. Not dogs this time – although I do love them too – but those other four-legged house dwellers. Cats. I have a soft spot for cats, although I believe it’s true you never own one. They own you. They rule… and you submit. If you should refuse, they’re off! It’s this independence that I find so wonderful about these critters. They like to come and go as their will takes them, eating – or not – according to their own personal whim. You can fuss them providing they are willing, or if they demand to be fussed.

The two that I regard with fond memories were both true farm cats. Born to females that lived a semi-feral life around the farmyard. Both fathered by the wandering local Tom who would tour his quite large domain, seeking out the Queens who had called for his services.

The first was a long-furred male kitten who I selected from the litter because of his beautiful green eyes. We called him Sooty, so you can guess his colouring. He grew quickly both in size and in our affections. He had one bad habit. We lived at that time near the river at Wisborough Green. He loved to go after the water rats at night where his black coat made him invisible to all but the most wary. He would bring them into the house via an open window vent – still alve – and then play with them up and down the long corridor as we slept behind a firmly shut bedroom door. In the morning the only sign of his adventures would be a lone gall bladder, left behind the bedroom door as what I assume was either a tiny gift, or, and I think this is more likely, he just didn’t like that particular morsel! He only ceased these playtime events after one rat succeeded in giving him a nasty bite on the tail which quickly became infected. Several vet visits and a lancing plus injections cured him, but he never forgot and henceforth they were brought home dead as a doornail. (Where does that simile come from?)

The other cat, a few years later, was a magnificent ginger specimen who we called Cindy. As the name may suggest this time a female who wore a coat of exceedingly long fur. Living in the countryside this required constant long cleaning sessions, which involved much licking and spitting, to keep it in good condition. She loved a fuss, but had a unique way of saying when the time was up. She just buried both teeth and claw in the hand that caressed her. The switch from peaceful contented purring to feline assassin was remarkably swift. You quickly got the message.

In winter you would wake in the night to find she had buried herself under the bedclothes and was curled contentedly by your feet. You moved at your peril. The slightest twitch and you would leap from the bed with a cat firmly attached to your ankle, while you uttered strangled curses about her parentage.

This surely though is why we love our pets. They give us memories. They become solid members of our families. They somehow return the love we give a thousandfold.

So, whatever animal is entwined round your heartstrings at the moment, enjoy them. Let them bring you memories that you will never forget. Let them sit at your feet or beside you on the settee, or on your lap. Feel them curled at the foot of the bed and know that they love you. Happy Christmas. x John Nash