My Pets

March 19, 2013

My Pets

Below: Daisy's foster 'ducklings' have grown bigger than Daisy who is in the background.

Yes, it is a little indulgent of me but its my blog and I'll put my pets on there if I wanna.

The two original bantam chickens hatched a further nine. Six of them were roosters and pretty though they were six roosters crowing in perfect disharmony for hours on a suburban property, from 6am was too much. Alternative arrangements for the roosters have since been made.

Daisy the Duck - original hey - was broody for months. She doesn't like anyone touching her when she is like that. She liked to sit on chicken eggs and, presumably, pretend they were hers.
One day I saw some ducklings at a market and resolved to get some. Two fluffy little ones were brought home. After a week or so in their own little cage and run I decided to introduce them to Daisy. She had already noticed them in passing but did not make a fuss. I placed them in the pen with her and she was not long in taking them for a swim in the shell pool. When one duckling could not get out she endeavoured to pull her out with her bill. She hissed at anyone, man or beast who came near them.
Donald and Daphne, are now well on the way to being adults and since then they have grown to Daisy's size but she is still mothering them. Donald and Daphne love spaghetti and bread and will eat them from my hand. They are quite eager and I am glad ducks do not have teeth.

Dixie the cat is my favourite; all she has to do is give me her loving trusting look and she gets whatever she wants, usually the choicest tidbits and the most comfortable places to sleep, even if they do include my wargame table and boxes of toy soldiers. I've had her since I found her at the RSPCA about eight years ago.

Henrietta with her new chicks. I hope they are not roosters again.

Below: Dixie gets stuck into some high quality ice cream.

Below: Neville hiding in the wardrobe. Neville acted very strangely a few days ago. I was lying on the floor when he ran and jumped onto my belly and instead of sticking around to inflict his usual head rubbing he promptly jumped off and ran away, only to start meowing. He was nowhere to be found. Later I discovered him in the wardrobe. A swelling on his head, most likely resulting from a cat fight scratch had burst. He let me wipe it with a damp cloth and purred the whole time. He seems alright now.

Me spoil my cats? No way! Well, they were very comfortable and also provided me with a living fur coat. But it was a little difficult to type on my blog!