So…about that nasssty rooster. Because my Mom is a farmer’s daughter, we grew up with various animals: dogs, cats, a parakeet, a hamster, rabbits, fish, ducks, and chickens. We didn’t have all of them all at once. We always had at least a dog and the other pets came and went with the passing years.
Let’s see, the dogs were Candy, Silver, and Pepper. Candy was our first dog. I was real young when we got her and I remember her nipping at my little heels, making me cry as I tried to run away from her–key word “tried”. She was a Cockapoo back before they were popular and considered a breed, I guess, because I believe she only cost my Mom $5. My grandfather really loved that dog. She was very lion-hearted, in spite of her maybe 35-40 pound size and very protective of us–unless there was a thunderstorm. Yes, she was petrified of them and would even go to the forbidden, off-limits upstairs to hide under a bed. There was one time when only the two of us were home and, being rather petrified of thunderstorms, myself, we both hid under the kitchen table. I was the brave one of the two of us, or so I’d like to think. Candy lived to a ripe old age and we were all so sad when she died. It’s hard losing a pet you grew up with, even if you didn’t like her much to begin with because she was a nipper–those little puppy teeth are sharp! She looked very similar to the dog in the photo.
Silver was a beautiful silver Husky that was always running off. Not sure what happened to her. She was either given away or stolen. Pepper was a Labrador Retriever mix and he was a great dog, as well, very friendly and low-key. If only my Skye will grow up to be that mellow. Or even 1/2 that mellow.
The cat was…Puddytat. Hey, we’re big Looney Tunes fans, okay? He was a gorgeous Maine coon cat that my Dad, I believe, called my Mom’s attention to when the little kitten was called into a radio station buy-sell-swap show called “Purely Personal”. Apparently, the poor little puddy was being kicked around by a group of boys on the beach and was rescued by this person. So, we got him. We didn’t know he was a Maine Coon until much later because, again, the breed was not well-known or popular at that time or at least not like it is now. Now, whew, you pay a pwetty penny for a Puddytat wike dat! (Notice his left ear is notched? Battle scar.)
Let’s see, the parakeet. Her name was Tonga. She was really pretty. And messy. And loud, especially when near a running water faucet. Mom went to a friends house to pick up some Amway products and, when she came out, saw a strange blue bird in their driveway. No one was home, so she threw a towel that she apparently traveled with onto the bird and brought it with her into the car. Before she knew it, it was perched by her shoulder. Somehow, she hooked up with the original owners who had already bought another bird, a green female. They came and identified their blue male who was sweet and could even do tricks. Tonga, not so much. Not sure what happened to her, either. Hmmm…did we have Puddy then?
There was the hamster, Albert, named in honor of my Dad’s middle name. Either that or Fat Albert, I’m not sure which. Albert slept a lot during the day and often escaped his Habitrail at night. I have a feeling we didn’t have Puddy, yet, because Albert died a natural death, in his sleep. I know this because I’m the one who found him and tried to wake him up by poking him, through a small air hole in the Habitrail, with a piece of straw. He didn’t budge, so I tilted the Habitrail. Judging from how he plopped over in one solid lump, rigor mortis had evidently set in.
Then there were the two rabbits, Patches and Crystal. Patches was white with black…patches, and Crystal was all-white with pink eyes. Patches was a boy and Crystal was a girl. We didn’t know that. We found out fairly quickly and also found out that male rabbits will kill their offspring. Eventually, Patches and Crystal met their demise, somehow….
Wow, this is starting to get depressing–and I haven’t even gotten to the fish, chickens, ducks, or my grandfather’s rooster, yet. Let’s just get it all over with at once, right now, shall we: they ALL DIED. The fish died from old-age, which is what, a month or two? The chickens and ducks all eventually died or “disappeared”, probably taken by predators like raccoons (not to be confused with Maine Coons) or fishers…
…often referred to as “fisher cats”–not to be confused with cats–they are actually large weasels. And mascots:
Okay, the nasssty rooster. We had a bunch of hens and two Plymouth Rock roosters. The roosters didn’t get along, so Mom took one to the Farm. The rooster we kept was very handsome and sweet; I would feed him by hand and he would ever-so-gently take the food from me. He looked very similar to the handsome guy in this photo–click on it and you can see where he lived. Meanwhile, the other rooster was his complete opposite–he had the same coloring, but was scrawnier and mean, mean, mean–which, if you read about Plymouth Rock Chickens, is not the norm! He was also a huge coward. He would always attack anyone who was in his vicinity, but only after they turned their back to him. My grandfather chastised him one day, after he came after us as we were walking away from the shed to the barn. He told him that was it! One more time and he was done! Well, it wasn’t too long afterwards that we were all at the Farm for a visit, which always included eating, of course. My grandmother, who we called “Mum”, and I were in the kitchen while everyone else was bustling over by the dining room table waiting for the main course. As Mum took the roasted chicken out of the oven, she said to me in a conspiratory whisper, “Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone–this is the rooster!”
MMM–mmmmm! He was mean, ornery, and cowardly, but not nearly as scrawny as he looked and verrry tasty!