Bruce’s
ability to eat practically anything that was put near him or had fallen into
his field of vision was handy on occasions. No need for a dust-buster when it
came to crumbs dropping on the floor. Even spills would be slurped up if there
was any possibility of nutriment. He had
a really eclectic taste; everything from spaghetti to icecream would be eaten
with relish. Even coffee left unattended was prey to his ferocious appetite. He had, in fact, very few exceptions just lettuce
or uncooked mushrooms; anything resembling salad was treated with suspicion.
I was surprised, therefore, one day at
Bruce’s reaction to a crumpet. The crumpet was meant to be my breakfast. After
making lunches, tidying up and doing the necessary morning tasks for Aidan and
myself, the crumpet sat unattended and unbuttered on a plate until I had run
out of time to eat breakfast. Bruce thought he was in with a chance as I made
my way to the bin. He wagged his tail
and kept his eyes fixed on the crumpet until I relented and put the crumpet
directly into his mouth. As I finished
organising our departure, Bruce trotted off outside. A few minutes later, he returned with still
with the crumpet protruding from his mouth.
He walked up, spat out the untouched crumpet at my feet and looked at me
in disgust. Apparently, Bruce had his standards and a cold, unbuttered crumpet definitely
did not meet these!
Another unexpected addition to his
diet came more from the garden centre than the supermarket shelves. As a puppy, Bruce tended to chew everything,
from stray socks to pieces of wood; there were teeth marks on anything that
stood still for long enough. One of the surprising victims was an innocent ceramic
garden gnome. It had been a present for Aidan and had sitting minding its own
business on the back porch for some time before Bruce suddenly saw it as
appetising. But where to start? Bruce decided at the top and somehow wedged its
hat in between the decking boards to snap off the top and then ate from the top
right down to leave just the feet where the garden gnome used to be.
Sometime later, another snack from the garden shop put
Bruce in the world of pain. I had pots
of herbs on the back porch that had become a favourite snack for the extensive
population of snails and slugs in our backyard.
Unfortunately, I believed the advertisements about some special snail
pellets that were apparently repellent to dogs and safe to use in the garden. Not if your dog had a savage craving for all
manner of disgusting things. Bruce saw the bright blue pellets I put on the
plants as an ideal appetiser before dinner. As I turned around, I caught sight
of Bruce out of the corner of my eye demolishing the topsoil of the pots, complete
with snail pellets within seconds of me applying them. I quickly grabbed him,
disposed of the rest of the pellets and ran to the phone to call the Vet. They
suggested pumping salty water into him for as many times as would completely
empty his stomach. Bruce was NOT HAPPY.
Having provided him with nibbles before dinner I then made him throw it all up
in the most unpleasant manner and seemed to be annoyed with him to boot!
Failed
Hunting Adventures
Bruce was not the only
pet to have strange tastes, Eric the Monster Cat would not eat ordinary cat
food, apparently he was allergic to it, but he was partial to the odd insect.
He would snack on moths, mostly dead ones, and would chase spiders. His predilection for hunting spiders was not
always successful. But his success with birds was non-existent.
Eric was an exceptionally handsome
cat. He had plush short white fur that
was thick and soft to touch- if you could get that close. He became a very large cat and as time went
on and the vet appointments for one crisis or another continued, it became very
difficult to fit him into a normal
cat cage.
His
white fur and size were a source of frustration to him. Eric was the most incompetent hunter. He was so white that he literally glowed in
the dark. The birds teased Eric at every
opportunity. I would watch as Eric would
spot a bird on the lawn and begin to stalk it from the other side of the
garden. On a sunny day Eric was
brilliant white and even with his nose to the ground, Eric trying to hide in
the clover was like an elephant hiding behind a bamboo shoot. The bird would have to be blind not to see
Eric coming. I could almost hear the
bird saying, hey dopey I can see you!
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!!! But Eric
persisted with the farce only to be absolutely astonished when the bird flew
off just beyond his reach. He would sit
forlornly staring at the sky, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.
Eric had a strange relationship with
birds, for all his unsuccessful stalking, he would sometimes sit practically
next to his bowl oblivious to the birds happily snacking away on his food. When he became aware of the audacity of the
birds, he wouldn’t pounce on them or growl or hiss at them, he would just look
pathetically in my direction and bleat pleadingly for me to do something about that those awful creatures stealing my food!
Eric’s only success was in his hunting
insects. I would often find him snacking
on some insect meat with a pair of moth’s wings protruding from his mouth. In fact the only thing he was useful for was
exterminating blowflies and spiders from the house.
Apart from the spindly Dandy-long-legs
variety, the area we lived in was inhabited by Huntsman spiders. As far as I know Huntsman spiders are not
poisonous. They are large, hairy, very scary looking spiders. They can often grow to quite a size almost to
the fill the palm of your hand. I
wouldn’t describe myself as an arachnophobe but I wouldn’t encourage one to sit
in my hand. To Eric, Huntsmen spiders
were sport. He would torture chewing off
a leg and watch them try to scramble away, then squash the spider under a paw,
to start all over again. Aidan, at that
stage, was terrified of spiders and the sight of Eric playing with a Huntsman
did not fill him with joy.
One night I saw Eric flicking a paw in
the direction of a Huntsman that was reared up on its front legs inside the
back door. After about five minutes of
this, I had had enough and turfed the spider and Eric outside. A minute or two later, I went to go out the
back door to see Eric with the large spider sitting on top of his head between
his ears, like a bizarre black hairy head piece. Eric knew there was something on his head but
no matter which way he turned; up, down or sideways, he couldn’t get a glimpse
of what he was. The spider won its revenge.
It wasn’t going to get off to be tortured again. It was going to stay put.
You had to admire the spider for its
spunk. How he got on top of Eric’s head,
I will never know and whether he ended up as Eric’s dinner still remains a
mystery. But I will always remember Eric
sitting with his spider headdress and a quizzical look on his face.
For more stories see www.madanimals.com.au
Bob the Wonder Cat has had a challenging few months with me preparing to sell my house. First there were the painters and being moved from room to room, then the bench top people making horrifying noises as they cut the stone bench tops to size and then more painting of the kitchen with doors moved around and in and out of the house in various stages of painting.
