Paws and Claws -- the next bit

Author: Iain Mavin
Word Count: 3613
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THICKET AND WATER DON’T MIX
You know how all dogs can swim ? Well, we have one that can’t! We found this out the previous year while we were on holiday with my parents and Andrew on the canals. We were on the Grand Union Canal going through a series of locks at Stockley, towards Warwick. Father was steering, I was closing the gates of the previous lock and Mother, Jane and Andrew were preparing the next lock. We had left Thicket onboard with the doors closed. He wasn’t happy about this he didn’t like the feel of the boats’ engine under his paws. He could hear us on the towpath and decided to get off. He forced open the bow doors, got onto the front of the boat and seeing Jane on the towpath jumped overboard. This was a big mistake as the boat was further from the path than he thought, twenty feet further in fact. Yes, he missed, straight in and under. My father was great. He said he didn’t panic as he thought it was Jane (thanks Dad) but as soon as he realised it was Thicket, started to panic. Thicket at this time was surprised to say the least. The towpath he had expected to land on was all wet, and you went through it and disappeared. Jane said that it looked like a Tom and Jerry cartoon when they run in midair, legs going like mad and going nowhere. He hit the water running, and was going down for the third time when he reached the side and Jane was able to grab him and pull him out. He stood on the towpath and shook the water off all over us, we were wet but he was worse, he stank! So Mother wiped him down with diluted dettol he didn’t like that. We did, as the smell of that was preferable to the horrendous smell of wet dog and canal water. I felt like getting some of Jones’ Alpine Fresh fabric conditioner in fact anything was better then Eau de canal! Thicket has stayed clear of water ever since except when he has a bath.
As I mentioned earlier the house in Cornwall was next to a wood, which had a stream in it. So one day I was walking Thicket and Jones down there throwing sticks for Thicket to retrieve when there was a loud splash. I turned round to see Thicket up to his stomach in the stream. This came as quite shock looking back at the canals episode.He was picking up the stick I had thrown as it floated past him. He ran out and towards me and dropped the stick for me to throw again. So I threw it into the stream, he went straight in, no messing. The stick had wedged itself under a stone and hadn’t surfaced so Thicket stuck his face under the water to look for it. I was amazed, so much so I took Jones and him home, collected Jane and we all went back to the stream. Thicket went straight back in, trying to find the stick, face under the water. One slight problem, dogs don’t have gills, he couldn’t breath. He pulled his head out of the water and sneezed pints of water out of his nose, but he had the stick! I threw the stick in again and Jones looked at us as if to say “What’s going on? Are you trying to drown him cos’ you didn’t succeed on the canals?”
Thicket bounded out of the stream dripping water and shook it all over us, and Jones, who was somewhat annoyed climbed up the nearest tree. This caused another problem. He couldn’t get back down, so I had to go and climb up and fetch the little sod.Thicket would also fetch his ball from the stream, but if the water went above his stomach he wouldn’t go any deeper, this meant lots of lost balls until I walked downstream to get them . Even when we moved to Derbyshire and now live near to the River Dove Thicket would still only go in up to his belly. We still lost balls but now they ended up in Nottingham and I wasn’t going to go there and fetch them back !

CHARLOTTE

We had been toying with the idea of getting another cat after seeing how well Thicket and Jones got on with next doors’ cats, and deciding that we could afford one, went to the nearest RSPCA centre. Thirty miles later due to Jane’s’ (follow the hands not the mouth) navigating we arrived. Looking in the cages we saw several kittens and in one was a black panther and a small ginger kitten cowering in the corner.
“That one NOW ! ” said Jane, decisive as ever. I wasn’t given a choice in it.
The RSPCA girl reached in and handed Jane a ginger and white bundle. The girl said that this kitten was unusual as it was a female; you don’t normally get ginger females. Plus she had bad back legs, the kitten, not the girl, hers were quite nice but don’t tell Jane.
The kitten had been found in a field full of sheep and the RSPCA think that she had been stood on and damaged her kneecaps. They keep dislocating and she walked knock kneed. This of course made Jane more determined to have her. So after agreeing fees and arranging to collect her in a week I had to drag Jane back to the car. She wanted to take her home now. That next week was difficult, every day Jane would ask “Can we go now for her?” One thing had been decided, her name, “Charlotte”. My Uncle Charlie had died recently and Charlotte was the nearest to his name we could think of plus it sounded different to Thicket or Jones. Come the day we had to collect her Jane wanted to leave at six in the morning. The centre didn’t open until ten, so we left at nine and sat outside for half an hour. By now Jane was like a kids party without the balloons and jelly. We collected Charlotte, put her in a supposedly escape proof box and set off home. Ten minutes later Charlotte had escaped and was sitting on Jane’s’ knee. She sat there all the way back. Arriving at home I went in first to round up the other two and hold onto them until Jane came in with her. Jane put her on the floor and let her look round. She took one look at those two and growled. I thought here we go again. Thicket by now wanted to go and greet his new toy, Jones was his usual snobby self and freed himself from my grip and went into the kitchen as food being more important. Charlotte followed him, I think after the initial growl to announce her arrival she had suffered love at first sight She followed him everywhere, round the table and chairs, the washer, freezer and fridge onto which Jones had leapt to start eating his food. This upset Charlotte, as she couldn’t see Jones anymore. So she walked back into the lounge where Thicket was now struggling to go and see her. I slowly led him towards her, but she had other ideas, ran past him and under the coffee table, turned and spat, hissed, growled and was generally unpleasant to him. Dopey Thicket just didn’t get the warning signs as usual, so walked up to her and got thwacked on the nose. He never learns.
We had been told by the RSPCA that Charlotte had been house trained. You could have fooled us. We were finding piles of poo everywhere. Then suddenly she stopped and used the litter tray. Then a few weeks later she started doing it again. So thinking she may have a problem took her to the vets. She told us there was nothing wrong she was just being naughty after being told off for doing it in the wrong place. This was difficult tell her off for going in the wrong place and she would go and poo because she had been told off! Confused? So were we! Then all the pooing stopped, she used the litter tray all the time and fell in love with Tim from next door. She had her first season and would walk round offering herself to everything, tables, chairs, Thicket, who was totally confused, this kitten hated him why now should she like him? Even Jones, who didn’t have anything – having had the snip.
Tim had come round for a coffee and vital discussions on the latest releases of rock music when Charlotte appeared. She saw Tim and calling out presented herself to him. We were so embarrassed. Tim was great, he looked at her and said, “Sorry Charlotte, you’re not my type really, I don’t like redheads.” Charlotte seemed to understand and walked off. The next day we arranged to have her done to save Tim from being propositioned again! One of Tim’s cats, “Zebedee” (a very large tabby, in fact he was huge) was friends with Jones and was one of the nightly troops who went with Thicket on his walks. He didn’t like Charlotte, and decided that as Jones lived with her he didn’t want to know him either. So Jones made friends with “Zoe” a black and white longhaired female two doors down. He would sit on the inside windowsill with Zoe on the other side and gaze into each other’s eyes while she tried to pat him with her paws. Charlotte jumped up along side Jones, Zoe saw her, spat and ran away. Jones turned to Charlotte and cuffed round the head almost saying “She’s my girlfriend, now see what you’ve done!” and jumped down and left a rather confused Charlotte on the windowsill. One morning I came downstairs to find Jones and Charlotte curled up together on the settee fast asleep. Jones opened his eyes and seeing me jumped off the settee as if to say, “ It wasn’t me I was never there, look I’m over here washing a leg, and I couldn’t have been there. I wouldn’t be with HER”
Charlotte had now accepted Thicket but she was confused, he was a big hairy cat that didn’t meow or purr but made loud barking sounds, strange this but I can hang off its head like Jones does. Nice here really.”

SMUDGE
While I was working at St Mawgan Jane had got a Job at a local factory that packed bacon and gammons for large supermarkets and shops. During a shift break she was talking to one of her workmates, Veronica, (who was to become very close to us) who told Jane about one of the girls on her production line was looking for somewhere to live. Now Jane is one of those people who will help anyone if she can (well, she took me in). This girl, Linda, had been on holiday in Cornwall and liked it so much, moved in with some friends and worked at the factory. The first year had been fine but recently she was being asked to baby-sit every night and do the washing, cooking, and be a general dogsbody. With the factory being on shifts she was finding it increasingly more difficult. Starting work at six in the morning going home at two and doing the housework, cooking and babysitting until late in the evening. She wanted to leave but couldn’t find any where near enough to work not having transport and no buses early enough for her to get to work on time. Jane and I talked it over as we had three empty bedrooms, and spoke to our rental agent about having someone else in the house she told us as long as this person did not pay rent to us we would be alright. We could ask for something towards food, electricity, telephone etc. I had now unfortunately lost my job as a scarecrow at the airfield so we needed the cash. I had been doing some gardening on the car park opposite the house and was bending down to pick up a stone when I felt I had been stabbed in the back. The pain was so intense I fell to the ground and had to crawl across the road into the house. I called the doctor, as Jane was still at work. He came and diagnosed severe sciatica. It wasn’t until I had a scan did they discover it was in fact two ruptured discs in the base of my spine but this was three years later and too late to do anything about it. So there was no way I could walk let alone drive a Landover around the airfield. I was virtually bedridden for three weeks and housebound for two months. The doctor told me that there was no possibility of driving the Landrover; being bounced around over rough ground would make my back worse. So I was out of work again, like my neck injury in the police force had cost me my job. In fact the doctor suggested there might be a link between the injuries as I have restricted neck movements and use my torso more than normal, but it could never be proved. So I just got on with it and tried to be a good patient for Jane.
Once I was mobile again I found that there were very few jobs in Cornwall, and as I still suffered severe pain, became a househusband and obviously money was tight. Into this situation came Linda. She agreed to move in the next week and said “What about Blackie” We said “Who?”
Blackie was a cat (I think). He was the size of a small house and a fighter, chunks of fur, ears and tail missing, not a pretty sight. Our lot were going to love him! When he arrived he attempted to rip off Thicket’s head, Jones and Charlotte vanished for hours at a time. Something had to be done. Linda said that she wasn’t bothered about keeping Blackie as it was a farm cat her friends had given her for company. It wasn’t her choice of cat anyway. I suggested we try the RSPCA and see if we could do a swap. It sounds heartless and cruel but Blackie was a lone cat and needed to be in a house with no other animals. He would not accept being second to Jones who was top cat in our house. I spoke to the centre and asked if we could do a deal over Blackie for a kitten. They said to bring him over and they’d see what they could do for us. So having told the girls, set off the next day, after they had said goodbye to “The Beast of Bodmin” and gone to work. When I arrived at the RSPCA they told me that they had had a request from a couple for a mature cat to replace one that had died suddenly last night. I showed them Blackie and they thought he would be fine as he had had his operations and would be going to a lone animal house. The RSPCA were happy, so now I had to choose a replacement. We went to see what was in stock. There were several kittens in a pen, but one was climbing the fence and was face to face with me. “That one, Chris Bonington in a fur coat. The intrepid mountaineer was handed to me and started to purr, “purrfect” I thought, a dark tortishell female who then peed on my hands. I have that affect on cats, fortunately not on humans, (yet!) I thanked the staff and left my telephone number in case they had any more rescue or last resort cases that may need a home. Little did I know what I had done, but that was later. I took the new addition home and introduced her to the tribe. Jones looked at me as if to say “Another one? I’m leaving. I’ve only just got that redhead and that dopey dog sorted out and you do this to me. Sod off ! ” and demanded I pack his bag with Whiskas, Heinz tomato soup and a tin opener! Charlotte was quite interested, but didn’t get too close. Thicket was over the moon. Another toy that would bite and play with him.
When the girls came home, the first thing Jane said was “Where is it and what is it?’ Linda stood at the door and Jones left the house. I didn’t see the tin of Whiskas or tin opener so I assumed that he would be back. Jane asked again so I reached behind the chair where she was hiding and lifted her up for the girls to see. This is where it got all lovey dovey and sentimental so I’ll move on. “Right, what are we going to call her?” Jane asked. I suggested, “Smudge”, as she was all different colours all smudged together. This met with approval and after I explained about the couple and Blackie felt that I had done the right thing. We all agreed that Smudge was Linda’s and she would pay for vet’s bills and some of the food but all of us would housetrain her (Smudge not Linda). This didn’t take long as she had been taught by her mother and watched with interest when Jones or Charlotte would go to the toilet. Smudge was a hit with Thicket as you will not be surprised to read. Jones ignored her when he was awake but asleep was a different matter. She found that he made a wonderful warm pillow to lay on and when he woke to find her there, washed her head and went back to sleep. Charlotte acted as if Smudge was her own kitten eventually so things were going well.
We soon found out that Smudge was extremely vain. I had only to get out my camera and Smudge would be there sitting pretty as if to say ‘I I’m ready for my close up now but this is my best side.” She would sit at the window waiting for unsuspecting passers by and stand up and stare at them daring them to ignore her then sit back down waiting for the next victims. She would sit there for hours. It was during one of these posing sessions that she saw Jones swimming! As you are no doubt aware by now I like gardening and prior to me doing my back in, had put a pond in the front garden. I couldn’t put it in the back garden, as we didn’t have one, just a back path past the door to the coalhouse and the neighbour’s back doors. Jones would sit for ages looking into the pond. Quite what he expected to see apart from his own reflection I don’t know. All he would see would be algae and some plants round the edges. It was too shallow for fish and when we did have some he would take them out for walks round the garden! So, there was Jones sitting by the edge when Thicket snuck up behind him and sniffed his tail. Jones leapt into the air but unfortunately moved forward at the same time. He would have scored 6.0 for technique but 0.0 for the landing. The entry into the water was terrible, legs not together and over rotation, plus a large splash! If they gave points for exiting water he may have scored 5.4 for a rapid clearance. I’ve never seen him move so fast. Thicket stood there grinning until Jones shook all the water over him. I think that if animals can swear the air would be have been blue. By now I was helpless with laughter, watching with Smudge the antics outside. I opened the door to let a rather soggy moggy in, he looked at me and you could see what he was thinking “Bastard, how would you like a cold nose up your bum? Stop laughing! It’s not that funny”
I hadn’t got the nerve to tell him that I had already suffered at the cold nose of Thicket. I had just got out the bath and was going into the bedroom when he goosed me, not very pleasant at all so I could sympathise with Jones, but being a man I wasn’t going to tell him! Smudge walked up to Jones and sniffed him she wrinkled up her nose “You stink” and walked away. She didn’t go near him for days.
Sludge, sorry, Smudge, was terrified by Christmas whistles., you know those things you blow and a paper tube rolls out straight and makes a raspberry sound. Well I blew one at her, she stood on her back legs, and all her fur stood on end. She tottered forward to look at this thing and when it made a sound ran away. When it rewound she came back and looked at the small roll of paper as if to say “You don’t frighten me I’m a roughie toughie kind of cat” So I would pick it up and blow it again she would run away (wimp). By now I had an audience, Thicket would bark at it Charlotte who would swat at it, and Jones sitting on the arm of the chair (who still wasn’t talking to either me or Thicket) growling at it.