Gemma & Joey

In mid June I had a dream. I dreamed that my Dad and I went to the local SPCA and he accidentally let a ginger cat out of its cage. I told him not to worry as it would come home on its own which it did- we managed to sneak it back in before the woman who ran the SPCA came back. Obviously ginger cats had been on my mind since Peaches died three weeks previously but even so the dream felt very real somehow, despite the fact that my Dad died in 2002. I was due for a blood test on the morning of June 13th so my friend Rose and I decided we'd pop into the Waipukurau SPCA afterwards.

On arriving one of the volunteers asked if we'd come to play with the kittens and never being one to let something fluffy go by unpetted we said yes. First she had to make sure that none of them got out so we had to go into a short corridor, shut the door behind us, open another door into the first of the kitten rooms. When I went in a ginger and white kitten marched up to me and put it's little forehead to my forehead while putting its paw on my left cheek. However his name was "Nutbar" which didn't bode well. The volunteer read out the names of all the kitties including "Ivan" who was named after a vet. Rose asked her if Nutbar had been named after a vet as well...

We spent a good ten minutes playing with the kittens who were having a good attempt at eviscerating my hands. We then went through the same rigmarole of getting into a small corridor and having two doors shut before we frolicked with the next room of black and tabby kittens. All kittens are cute but sometimes none "speak" to you. We were just about to leave the SPCA when the volunteer said there was one room left but it was full of older kittens. We entered to see several black young cats careering around so we stayed in there for five minutes before we had to leave for another appointment. Just as we were going out of the room Rose said "Oh look at this one" and reaching up to a high shelf pulled a small black tortoiseshell female cat down. She was an older kitten with a patch of white fur at her neck and white paws with patches of ginger amongst the black. Purring like an engine she rubbed our hands and rolled over which is when I fell for her hook line and sinker.

The volunteer came back into the room and told me the kitten was named "Flossie" and had been with them three months as no one wanted her due to her colour. All this time Rose was saying "You'd be doing a good thing" but I didn't need any encouragement and told the volunteer that I would collect her in a week.


That same day I received an email from someone who had seen my advert in the "Pawprint" (magazine of the Central Shetland Sheepdog Club) asking for an older Sheltie to rehome. She had a six year old male Sheltie called Beaucourt Outta My Dreams aka "Joey" who had just retired from the show ring as a champion. They had four other dogs and he was near the bottom of the pack and she felt that he would benefit from one on one attention from someone who was home most of the time. When I replied to her it turned out that she only lived 45 minutes away from me in Hastings.

Over the week we exchanged emails about Joey as she enquired about my situation, fencing, the other animals I had. I in turn wanted to make sure that he liked cats, was a quiet dog and wouldn't mind a more sedate lifestyle. Then we made arrangements for the owners and Joey to visit that following Saturday (18th July).

It was a cold rainy day when Joey arrived in a blue four wheel drive with his owners. I could see his little fox like face peering out the back window with such a look of Mishka. For the next hour we discussed his likes and dislikes and his routine while Joey wandered around occasionally creeping up to sniff my hand. He seemed a timid dog but it was no wonder when I learned his story.

When he was a six week old puppy his breeder took her 13 dogs including Joey and his siblings to a show in Wellington. On her way home a vehicle forced her van off the road and down a fifty metre bank. In the crash two dogs were killed and the breeder severely injured, ending up in a wheelchair. Many Sheltie owners on hearing this took her dogs into their homes as a temporary measure which is how Joey had many homes in his first two years before arriving to live with his current owners. He showed some behavioural issues including a clingy tendency and a difficulty with the phone, running constantly from room to room when ever someone was speaking on it.


After an hour the owners said they'd leave Joey with me that day. They gave me a small red backpack with his toys, food and little duvet and drove away not knowing that Joey was watching them go. That night he slept on his little duvet next to my bed. For many days he would run repeatedly around the outside of the house although thankfully he never took any interest in the chickens. The cats meanwhile were delighted with the return of a Sheltie back to the house. It took him several days before he began to bark when anyone came to the door which meant that he finally felt at home at last. The only problem I had with Joey was his issues with the telephone but that's another story...

Peaches

Last week (18th May) my oldest angora rabbit, Cadbury, passed away aged nine years of age. He had been operated on for cancer four years ago but had gone from strength to strength since even flirting with the doe in the cage next to him. Recently he developed a weakness in his hind legs which made it difficult to get up and this worsened to the point that he needed to be upended to get about. When he was at the stage of barely being able to get around (although still eating) I made up my mind to do something but the decision was taken out of my hands as he died one afternoon while I was away. Very peacefully by the look of it.

That was expected. But this afternoon when I came home with a friend to discover my lovely Peaches cat dead on the side of the road I went into a state of shock. Peaches who has always been a gently reserved cat with the loudest purr imaginable. The cat who loved playing with mice, who always wanted to sleep as far up the bed as possible so that she was the first face I saw in the morning. Peachy who, if I was upset, would stand up with her paws on my knee and look intently at me before reaching one arm across towards me as if to say "it's ok. I'm here".

If I went to collect the mail Peaches would rush towards me, arching up on her hind legs to butt my hand with her head or else rolling over in the gravel of the driveway to show off her lovely striped belly. She was invariably polite, always asking permission to jump up on my lap. Always ready to pose for the camera. And when minky blanket came to live here, Peachy bum was the first to take possession of it, wherever it happened to be. On top of the chair, on my bed, on the sofa. She'd be busy needling it to within an inch of its life.

Then there was Gypsy the little black cat she'd been raised with. Smaller than Peach but more dominant she would instigate rather vicious wrestling matches which would result in little ginger roaring and hissing before falling off the bed. The next minute they'd be cuddled up asleep in each others arms. Outside it was Peaches who was the boss and Gypsy would watch entranced as she played with a mouse or else they'd be playing chasey across the lawn.

Peach came to live with me in January 2005 at about three months of age. She brought me comfort at a terrible time and she has been doing so ever since. What a treasure of a cat and how she will be missed.

The Mysterious Disappearance Of The Noodle Rooster

Recently Noodle had been digging graves in the veggie garden. I was never sure as to whether he was preparing for his own imminent demise or if he had evil intentions to murder the younger rooster who had taken his place as Head Cock. The rest of his time, as befitting an elderly chook, was spent sunning himself in the garden or else eating the acorns that were scattered on the driveway. Occasionally he would take his favourite old white hen for a discreet wander down the paddock away from prying eyes. However a month ago she expired due to.... well I assume exhaustion. Since then Noodle had been spending much of his time alone, just keeping his hand in by digging the occasional grave.

4th April Noodle and a young five month old rooster I called "Cuddly" due to his penchant for smooching with me, didn't turn up at bedtime. Each night Cuddly would snuggle up with his siblings while Noodle had a perch in the hedge since he'd been kicked out of the hen house when he lost the "Battle For Top Rooster". Next morning there was no sign of them either. I checked the road, around the paddocks but there was no sign of feathers, guts, half eaten acorns, anything. Both birds had completely disappeared. Noodle was over ten years old but Cuddly was just five months so it is a mystery fit for Miss Marple. Although I have many roosters I am currently trying to re home these two were guaranteed a forever home here due to their lovable personalities.

In the meantime a couple of my rabbits have been slightly off their pellets. The feed company have changed the recipe and bunnies are quite fussy when it comes to their food. However I kept feeding these two bucks grass to keep them going and they seemed to be drinking and taking an interest in events going on in the rabbitry. However this Monday we had a large 5.1 earthquake at lunchtime and I never thought to go check on the rabbits as I had a meeting to attend early that afternoon. However when I went out later in the day Bumble, my blue three year old buck was prostrate on the cage floor, dying. Now he has never been the best rabbit since I bought him as a baby. Coat a bit dishevelled, very occasionally he would sneeze and have a snotty nose so I would isolate him from the others in case something serious was brewing but it never came to anything. But there was enough doubt there for me to decide not to breed from him and it looks like I was right as Bumble died yesterday afternoon. Always so sad to bury a pet and I also couldn't help wishing that Noodle had been around to help me dig the grave.

The Hen In The Head Saga

I was hit in the head with a chicken a week ago. Seriously. Kept finding smashed eggs on the concrete floor of the wash house and then a tallish friend discovered Gabriella the Black Hen sitting on one lone egg up on the top of a built out wall. When she tried to reach past her to collect six rotten eggs that had rolled under a shelf said bantam took fright, flew to the window before making a target of my head. Not that I got any sympathy from my friend "Just another day of excitement at the Little House On The Prairie" was her comment.

The unplanned pregnancies of the past year have resulted in a surplus of roosters. This causes terrified hens who are sometimes cornered by young cockerels with gang rape on their mind. So far have put adverts in local free trader magazines and the school newsletter but apparently "Gorgeous colourful bantam roosters" are in plentiful supply as I haven't had any replies.

Meanwhile Stig is mortified at the appearance of firewood in "his" shed so during the daytime I have been tethering him to the fence along the driveway so he can mow the lawn and the trees and make rude faces at the chickens. He still bawls like a stuck pig when he sees his Mummy but otherwise we go minutes at a time without even a maaaah so he is growing up at last. However there is some resentment simmering there as when I am busy undoing his chain from the fence he usually sneaks around behind me and butts me up my backside.

After a few days of 36oC weather in Tikokino the garden looks pretty sad. However there are two new additions. I finally managed to find an upright rosemary bush for just $3, in part due to extreme woodiness. I've planted it between the Margaret Merrill bush rose my friend Jacqueline gave me and the thyme bush plonked on top of Sarah the gray bantam hen. My friend Glenys is forsaking Central Hawkes Bay for Cromwell down Otago way and last Friday her husband and brother delivered a large green container filled with waterlilies which now graces the patio outside the dining room window. Despite its size the cats have managed to completely ignore it until this morning when Peaches decided it made a great drinking bowl. She is nothing if not practically minded.

Another Unplanned Pregnancy, Fire Across Road and Death

January began with a cluck. A filthy hot day (3rd Jan) I was sitting at the computer when I hear loud cheeping coming from the vicinity of the hen house. Except this was a newly hatched cheeping and my other chicks were a couple of months old at the time. Went out in the scorching sun and discovered Kit sitting next to a tiny black chick. Picked it up and wandered 50 feet into the paddock where I had thought I'd heard cheeping a couple of days before coming from the other side of the woodshed. Sure enough I discovered Lara the black hen sitting under a mess of old bikes. When she saw the chick she called while it ran madly towards her. Thinking that was sorted I went back to the computer. Half an hour later I heard more loud cheeping coming from the hen house. Back out and discovered Kit watching a pale gray chick wandering round. I collected it and took it to Mum. Obviously she'd become thirsty and hungry from sitting on her eggs and gone to tank up at The Big House and the chicks had followed her and got left behind. The next morning Lara appeared with the gray and two black chicks so I put them in a cage to keep them safe from predators.

Meanwhile Ella's eight chicks were growing well although unfortunately a large proportion turned out to be roosters. Very funny to watch her try to brood these huge babies when she could only just manage to cover two with her wings. Even she soon tired of this and in mid January went off the cluck and back to the flock. Meanwhile I became close to one speckled baby who enjoyed sitting on my knee, arm or wherever she could perch. Well I hope it's a she although I did catch her trying to crow one morning. At the moment she's transgender.

The 15th January was another scorcher. My garden had given up and turned brown. It was windy. So was I. Mid afternoon I glanced outside and everywhere was bathed in an eerie orange light. When I went near the windows I could smell smoke so panicked and rushed out to rescue my underwear off the line as there is nothing worse in life than smoky knickers. Stig the goat and I went to the front gate and across the road saw a haze of smoke with four helicopters and monsoon buckets trying to put out a grass fire. My landlord's son rode over on his bike to say that the neighbour had been combine harvesting when the tractor hit a stone and the fire started. All in all 120 acres were burnt and it took the fire brigades of Tikokino, Onga Onga, Waipawa, Waipukurau and Hastings (forty minutes away) to put it out. I spent a nervous night wondering if the high winds would reignite it. Next morning heard the fire sirens again but they were only dampening down smoldering areas.

The same day I'd found a Sheltie dog for free on Trademe. Rang the owner who told me she and her husband were re homing him as they wanted to go out camping more. I said I would take him and she said she would talk to her husband about bringing him across from Wanganui. To say I was excited would be an understatement although his name (Buffy) did give me cause for concern in a household of Demelzas, Baldricks and Stigs. Wednesday morning the owner emailed to say that she had decided to give him to someone else as they didn't want to drive over. Didn't even give me the chance to find another way to get him. This was all the more painful as an hour before I'd learned that my mother had died during the night. So the following week was spent with high emotions as we attempted to give Mum the proper send off.

Monday the 24th January was her funeral in Napier. My cousin Elaine and I drove up on a wet and nasty morning and had lunch with my brother, his wife, birth mother, brother and partner and sister. After the funeral at St John's Cathedral and a quick cup of tea Elaine and I came back down to Central. Next day I was back in Napier for a doctor's appointment which has resulted in an emergency referral to the rheumatology clinic at the Regional Hospital as the GP thinks I have an extremely rare auto immune disorder which only affects two people in Hawkes Bay. Guess that explains why I have felt like crappier than usual for so long. So if I have two rare disorders I guess that just makes me more exclusive. And interesting in a wane, windswept sort of way. Although I really feel as if I've been hit in the head with a frying pan with the events of the past month I try to be grateful for all the good things in life while trying to make sense of all the bad.