Sad Tales of Pet Hooliganism

All of my life my family has kept pets of one
kind or another. We have had dogs, cats,
hamsters, guinea pigs and rabbits.

Without a four legged companion, I personally
don't feel that a house can be called a home. Of
course this does sometimes come at a price, with
chewed belongings, scratched furniture and
oftentimes hurt pride. However, the sacrifice is
more then worth it when those cute little eyes
look up at you at the end of the day.

Below are three stories from my own family
history, of displays of outright hooliganism.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent,
but events are factual and shocking. If you have
just bought a small furry companion into your
own home, be afraid, be very afraid.

Honey The Hamster

Honey was my first hamster, a golden Syrian,
hence the name. I loved her with a passion,
although she didn't used to love me when I tried
to wake her up in the middle of the day by
lifting the roof off her house and calling her
name, and I often got a nip for my troubles.

Honey also had a great skill, and that skill was
escapology. In order to keep her inside her cage,
we had piled books on top, thinking that this
would make it far too heavy for her to push the
little door open. Oh how wrong we were. Suddenly
in the middle of one night there was an enormous
crash. I came running down the stairs to find
the books, and we are talking extremely large
volumes here, on the floor.

I was almost too afraid to look, vivid images of
her lying squished beneath the books, running
through my mind, like some dreadful twist on Tom
& Jerry. At that moment though I heard a little
scuttling and out scurried Honey, none the worse
for wear, but quite intent on her path to find
more food. Hamsters!

Turvy The Cat

We had two kittens called Topsy and Turvy and
from those names you probably get an idea of how
the house looked most of the time.

They were little tearaways as kittens but all
the same they grew into very fine and loving
cats. Turvy however, still retained a little of
her naughtiness, which came to a head one Sunday
lunchtime.

My Dad was the cook in our house and every
Sunday morning he would spend a great deal of
time and effort preparing the Sunday roast. Each
week it was different joint of meat, but this
particular day he had settled on a perfect roast
chicken. I had laid the table and my Dad was just
bringing the potatoes and vegetables into the
dining room, when all of a sudden there was a
huge amount of noise and commotion coming from
the kitchen.

All animals were banished to the garden whilst
lunch was being prepared, but that Sunday
someone, and gosh I just can't think who, had
left the back door ajar. Turvy had seen her
chance and jumped up on the kitchen counter,
where the hot chicken had been placed, grabbed a
leg and made off, dragging her quite substantial
prize behind her. Our dog had caught sight of
this and was in hot, quite literally, pursuit
down the garden.

It was a sad Sunday of vegetables and potatoes,
and the intent gaze of my Dad who had his very
real suspicions about who had left the back door
open.

Truffles The Guinea Pig

Truffles was only a few months old, when I took
her proudly over to my Granparent's house to
show them my new little treasure. Truffles was
taken on her own, without her sisters, as we
though it safer this way and easier to deal with
transport etc. Truffles was obviously feeling a
little frisky as she was out on her own though
and decided to play up.

When we reached my Nan and Grandad's house her
box was placed on the floor and she immediately
found a way to scale the heights of the side of
the box and was off, tearing around the living
room. She was chased around under every piece of
furniture, until finally my Grandad, who was in
his seventies at this time, managed to corner
her underneath a dining room chair, by kneeling
on the floor and curling his arms around her.

Truffles, however, was going to have none of
this and she made a little leap and bound over
his arms and circled around behind him. It was
at this point that she spotted a nice dark safe
tunnel and promptly ran up my Grandad's trouser
leg. My Grandad let out a screech and Truffles
was promptly dragged out, she had thankfully
only got as far as his knee. That story, as you
can imagine, was long remembered.

----------------------------------------------------
Alison Wood shares her tips for living with all
different types of pets over at her aptly named
pet blog, Pet Hooligans. To find out more about
all your favorite little hooligans and how to
increase their health and happiness, take a look
at the website today ==>
http://www.pethooligans.com/

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