Throughout my childhood, my parents were fond of telling stories about their lives and our early years on the sheep station 'Para'. I loved hearing those stories, and in my late teens started writing them down and checking facts where I could - it is how I got started in family history. So I thought immediately of several stories in response to the prompt 'Very Funny' this week.
Animals
were always a big part of Dad’s life and throughout my childhood a succession
of cats, dogs and other animals filled our home. Dad loved them all, and was particularly close to our cat Lucy, the last pet in our household before Dad's death.
Lucy was 18.5 years old when she died, and in the last yearss of her life was frequently referred to as the geriatric attack cat. When my little dog Kiera had died aged 15 a few
years previously, Lucy took over her guard dog duties, a task she clearly took very
seriously. Many was the time I looked
out our back windows to see Dad walking around his garden, his faithful hound …
err cat … at his heels. As if she
understood his failing eyesight, she was always about a metre behind, never in
front, never under his feet. And woe
betide any stranger who came near HER DADDY while Lucy was on guard.
I happened to be home the day, a few months before Lucy and then Dad passed away, when an electricity meter reader came to the house. Dad was asleep on his couch on the front
verandah, his cat at his side. Inside the house I heard a strange voice yell
and shot out, to find the meter man retreated off the veranda, Lucy with tail
like a bottle brush squarely between him and HER DADDY, and Dad still
blissfully asleep.
Standing on the stones in out driveway, blood trickling down his arm, the man told me what had happened. As he entered the gate and approached the verandah, Lucy woke, sat up and hissed.
When he kept coming she jumped off the couch, fluffed herself up and
started to growl. When he stepped onto the
veranda, she flew him, biting, clawing and yowling. The man quickly retreated, and that's when I came out. There Lucy stayed, firmly between this stranger and HER DADDY, determined he was not getting any nearer.
In the end I held her
while the man edged past, quickly read the meter, and retreated again. "I’m wary of the dogs," he told me, "but I’ve
never been attacked by a cat before!" Fortunately he saw the funny side, as she had drawn blood and I had visions of her being taken away in kitty sized handcuffs!
Over the next few weeks I relayed the story of the geriatric attack cat several times, and was quite taken aback by the number of other visitors who responded that Lucy had warned them off as well. Friends, our gardener, delivery people, the lady from the chemist delivering Dad's medicines - everyone commented to me that Dad often never
woke up as they went about their business, but that cat watched every move they made! And fortunately everyone found it 'Very Funny'!
