Welcome to this week’s blog hop. Today’s topic is:
What is your favourite animal and why? Have you ever included it in one of your stories?
My heart sank as I read this week’s topic, as I know my post today will cause a lot of ruffled feathers, and not only in the bird world.
Over the years I have tried to have a few pets in the house for the sake of my sons. Both boys fortunately did not inherit my allergies to various animals, and as children do, they often pestered us for pets after visiting friends’ houses and seeing dogs, cats, or hamsters for example.
Boy, did I try, but it just didn’t work out. To start with it had to be a pet that we all agreed on. Sam and I both do not like barking dogs, and the thought of walking the creature in the rain when the novelty wore off just didn’t appeal. Any rodent I know would make me sneeze for England, and so we settled on a cat.
Chaz came into our home from the Cats’ Protection League back in 1992 soon after we had moved to Suffolk. The boys were thrilled. However, it soon became obvious that my body did not react too well to our new feline friend. I tried for 6 months, but sadly Chaz had to go back to where he came from. My son found out that his eldest daughter has the same allergies to animals that I have, and so sadly I did unwittingly pass this onerous trait on.
After the disaster with Chaz, Sam then bought 2 budgerigars, but their noise sent both of us barking mad. The boys weren’t too interested in them, and in the end a neighbour took them in. We tried goldfish, but they kept jumping out of their tank. Flapping fish on the floor does not do it for me, and I couldn’t pick them up if everybody else was out. All the goldfish eventually croaked.
But wait… there is a little creature I am not allergic to, and I found this out when I had to babysit my son’s tortoise, Sheldon, a few years ago for the first time. He is quite delightful, and as long as I use straw in his box and not hay, Sheldon and I can get on rather well. He’s easy to keep and feed, and loves throwing himself on a tomato and devouring it. Every year he misses Christmas because he’s in the fridge, but by the end of February he’s bright as a button again. He’ll probably outlive all of us. As yet I haven’t written Sheldon into any story, but who knows, an opportunity might come along in the future.
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