I’M NOT EXAGGERATING WHEN I tell you that my family’s loudest arguments have been over animals. Take the KITTENS, for example … untold little waifs, brought home by my daughter, and fed by her mother with better food than I get (venison, salmon, or rabbit). I christened one ‘Gorsebush’ (that’s where he was found) … and another ‘Manifold’ (she turned up under the bonnet of my car).
There were the HORSES … one of which tried to kill me. The farrier asked if I’d help with drenching. He grabbed the enraged horse by the nostrils … twisted a loop of rope around its upper lip … and handed me the rope: “Here, hold him, mate!” Then he poked a long plastic tube down the beast’s throat … and poured drench into its guts.
The horse, of course, went totally mental – blaming me and hating me with bulgey, bloodshot eyes.
There was the PIG … a real, live, hairy pig, that greeted me one night when I arrived home. My excited daughter announced: “This is Cocoa. She’s eight weeks old, and she’s come to live with us!” Cocoa was wearing a little white bonnet and a red tartan bib – can you believe this? – with these touching words printed on it: “I Love My Mummy!”
Finally, there were the DOGS … strays, some of them … big, most of them … plus a senile white lap-dog with Separation Anxiety Syndrome!
I recall a small brown pup that joined us one January, but by March had become a huge brown pup with feet bigger than a camel. And I recall agreeing to walk the dog …
This dog was born to pull. And pull it did, from the moment we crashed out the front door till the moment we crashed back in. It dragged me across the road, and through our tranquil subdivision. And I’ve never been so embarrassed. Because instead of breathing like normal dogs do, it CHOKED the whole way. Choked continuously and loudly.
When people heard us coming, they made their kids go inside …
JOHN, GRAPEVINE’S FOUNDER, BELIEVES THAT MOST DOG-OWNERS ARE JUST COWARDS WHO HAVEN’T GOT THE GUTS TO BITE PEOPLE THEMSELVES.
