More Pets

We had Major the dog (whom we acquired as a puppy in Palmyra). He was a medium-sized mutt and greatly enjoyed the wilds of Macedon. He would hunt woodchucks, in particular, and having caught and killed one would bring it home and we would find such rotting woodchuck carcasses around the place (not indoors!). Major died when I was 13 years old, on my 13th birthday as a matter of fact, which happened to fall on Friday the 13th that year (not that it really mattered, just coincidence). He was only around 9 years old but had been hit by passing automobiles on multiple occasions in his lifetime (the result of his car-chasing habit) and finally succumbed to his internal injuries, whatever they were. We didn’t have money for veterinarian services back in those days and we just let nature take its course. Recently I found an old faded picture of Major:

Mr. Muffs was our cat that was acquired in Palmyra as a tiny kitten (I talk about him back in entry #15). He was 14 when he kicked the bucket, the direct result of being run over by a car. It was sad to lose him – he was a member of the family and we all took it hard, particularly Mom.

We ended up with a replacement cat, though I have no idea from whence it came. I think it was a stray cat that adopted us. We named it Scrapper for a scrapper he was. He was a tiger cat with an orange belly (quite beautiful, as cats go) and the very last inch of his tail was bent 90°, the result of some mishap unknown to us. Affectionate as all get-out when he wanted to be, but a ruthless hunter of small game including rabbits that he would drag through the back door and into the utility room, still alive, only to corner and torment them. We would find blood stains on the floor and walls from the poor things. He would amuse himself at times by hiding under the couch in the living room and lurking until someone walked by with their bare feet, at which time he would launch out and grab ahold with teeth and claws. One learned to walk carefully past the living room couch. He also had an affinity for Dennis, specifically when it was summertime and Dennis slept with only a sheet because of the heat. Scrapper would hang around the foot of Dennis’s bed in the morning waiting for Dennis to begin to stir only to attack his moving foot with (again) teeth and claws. This would naturally send Dennis into an immediate wide-awake state with very loud vocalizations directed at the cat. Scrapper never bothered me in that manner – only Dennis.

My sister Rita wanted a baby goose for some reason. She was always coming up with crazy ideas. So, she went to a farm, got one, brought it home, and named it Spanky. It was a big hit with the family – so cute and quite entertaining. It waddled about the house looking for crumbs of food and bugs, peeping all the way. In the late evening it would cuddle with you and sing itself to sleep with a little peeping song. Eventually it got too big to have around – it shit all over the place plus it’s attitude was growing less sweet as time progressed. It eventually was taken back to the farm.

I came home from school one day to classical music being loudly played and the most amazing noise which turned out to be a canary my parents had purchased. Why did we need a canary? Who knows. It was in a large cage hung from the ceiling of the living room (out of reach of the cat, of course) and there was a sign attached to the cage – something like “Hello! My name is Jocko”. Dunno how my parents came up with the name “Jocko”, but us kids thought it ridiculous and a name more fit for a monkey than a bird. Silly name aside, the thing was singing its little brains out in conjunction with the orchestra on the record player and I was mesmerized. Never heard any like it. Didn’t imagine such a sound from nature existed. He eventually got ill and died, but I can hear his song vividly in my head to this day.