Oh we've had pets as long as I can remember
The first ones I can remember clearly are Hyppolit and Miss Marple (shortened to Hippo and Mimi of course). Mimi got pregnant when she was one, had kittens in my bed. Hippo was one of them. i think i must haven been 4 or 5 at the time.
Anyway we sold the other kittens, had mimi spayed and hippo castrated, and the two never got on.

Length? I'd say his tail is about a foot long.

I think she always wanted to kick him out, and he being stronger always got more food.

Sadly, Mimi died last year of kidney failure, which is apparently pretty common. She was always my fav of the two, fiercely loyal to us (more than can be said about hippo) and far less annoying. In June, we noticed that she was really dirty, weeing anywhere and drinking large amounts of water. After a week or two of heartbreaking decline, she was put down. Imagine a cat not being interested in smoked salmon! She wasn't, in fact I don't think that she ate anything at all in the last two days of her life. I also made the mistake of looking into her eyes when she was dead, something that makes me well up a bit even now (destroyed me at the time).
I couldn't remember a time without her and losing her was a real shame. We think what killed her really was a long trip when we moved, she never really was the same after that.

Hippo, in contrast, is a prize bastard. He'll wake you up screaming at 4am because the food that he's got is dry, he'll dig his claws into you when you pick him up in a way that only cats can, and he has had so many cysts, fights and so on that I've lost count.

Mimi used to go hunting, and whenever she caught something he'd nick it and proudly present it to us. He mostly lives inside now though. When he wants to go out, he'll miaow, and 30 seconds later he'll want to come back in. And out. And in again!

I campained for a dog in our house, and when I was 10 we finally got a fantastic dark golden retriever. He's 9 years old and looks about 2. He can sit, lie down, play dead, bark (if you shout "WHO IS IT?!"), growl ("look'oo's there!"), stand on his feet, beg (stand like a kangaroo, using his arse for support), give the poor, hop onto things. What he cannot do is come back when called, even with the promise of treats and whatever. The smells outside are far more interesting. He's terrified of anything loud, particularly fireworks and thunder. In fact, taking him for walks around the new year is really annoying because every minute he'll try to turn around and go home as some little brat chav sets a popper off somewhere.

Ah, I love my dog! He's called Othello. But he's not black.
Length? LENGTH? It's all about the VOLUME of the cat's miaow
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 15:35, Reply)