General Chat

Dad died of a brain tumour.
One of his cats died of a brain tumour when he first went to hospital.
Eventually, dad was allowed home to die. He was on a very high dose of morphine, barely conscious.
The other 2 cats (Peter and Chester) took it in turns to sleep on his bed.
Chester died a week before dad.
The day after dad died, Peter died.
All the cats died in their sleep.

I think they loved him.

I am really enjoying these stories, what lovely memories you have Maggie xx

I find it fascinating that dad was so good with big cats - but utterly useless with small domestic cats.
I've had 9 cats in my adult life (3 that I had chosen, 6 that were others', strays, or in the case of the 3 I've got, the kittens of a rescue cat I chose (who was, apparently spayed). None of the cats in my care have been vicious. None of them would bite/scratch/attack for no reason.

When I was a very small child in Malta, we had a cat called Korky. A huge tabby (neutered) tom. Only dad and I could get near him. I've still got a scratch he gave me - but then I used to dress him up and put him in my doll's pram, so deserved it. To appease him for this indignity, we'd sit on the windowsill, and I'd catch flies for him to eat. Mum and my siblings were terrified of him.

When we moved to Scotland, dad got a cat we called Micky - who turned out to be a female, we called Mickie.
She was a half Siamese, grey tabby in colour.
She would hide behind a bush, jump out and seriously lacerate your legs. I still have a scar from her, but, again I dressed her up :-(
Again, only my dad and I could pick her up without ending up with a lacerated face.

Even strangers were scared of her. Mickie lived to about 22, so when mum moved to live with dad in Saudi, Mickie (then aged 10) was rehoused with me and my sister - she'd moved around a lot, so this was no shock. A friend stayed overnight on the sofa. Mickie went into the room, walked up to him (he was asleep) and swiped him across the face - claws out - this was a regular occurrence - with anyone innocently sat in the house!

When she was about 15, and my niece was born, Mickie (of her own volition) went to live with pensioners down the road - who said she was very loving and gentle!! We used to buy food for the cat, even though she was no longer with us, She stayed there until she died - just after the blind husband died.

Dad had 3 rescue feral cats when he retired. He was always worried about them attacking my children, which implies they could be nasty at times - they never were with us - but why were pussy cats chosen by my dad so darned nasty!!?????

Maggie, how fascinating to read this. You could write a book about your Dads travels. I just love how your Dad put that nasty man in Bohartums cage, would have loved to witness that :-)

Even worse than Bohartum, was a pony dad called Peter.
Because he was a pony, and not a horse, his hooves weren't trimmed.
They had grown like clogs, unfortunately, nerves had also grown in these 'clogs', so the hooves couldn't be trimmed at all. Dad got the vet to put him down.
Before Bohartum had his bad teeth removed, an elderly man with 1 leg and a crutch took great pleasure in poking him. With the pain he was in, and the irritation, Bohartum got really cross and upset.
Dad berated him when he saw him, but dad wasn't always there.
He caught him hanging around the lion's cage, crutch at the ready, after the lion after he'd had his teeth out, Dad then asked him
'Do you want a closer look?', opened the door and threw the man in the cage (Bohartum was right at the other end of the cage), and closed the door :-D

The man screamed a bit, begged for mercy and to be let out - which dad obviously did - after he'd given him a dressing down about animal cruelty and whether he really wanted his other leg :-D :-D

I loved yr story about Bohartum the lion. I hope his last years were happier. Poor guy the Arabs are to say the least not the most caring people with animals.

Maybe that is why god rewarded them with the useful camel which needs little care but has no love to give. They like to bite and spit. Riding them makes me seasick hour after hour. No a/c either.

Camel racing can be quite entertaining but I don't care so much for the modern trend for robotic jockeys!

Great memories and experiences for you Maggie, how lovely

Lizx

Great memories and experiences for you Maggie, how lovely

Lizx

Dear Maggie

Hello

That is such a inspiring piece to read about your father.

He was clearly a man who loved life.

Lovely picture too. <3


Take gentle care
With best wishes
Elizabeth, EOS
xx

I went out to Saudi for 6 months when I was 17, Liz.
Interesting experience :-0

Best bit was getting to know the animals.
These weren't 'tame' animals. Before dad got there, they weren't very well treated. The Egyptian vet seemed to be scared of the animals.

Bohartum was vicious, not helped by his having a mouth full of rotten teeth when dad got there, he had them removed.
Dad was a bit reluctant, but I persuaded him, before I came home, to let me go into the cage with Bohartum the very elderly lion and stroke him - dad did it all the time, and I'd spent quite a time tickling his head and ears through the bars - the lion would come over to the bars, gently grunting a greeting when I visited just so I could do it. You can see in the picture that he enjoyed it.
He had no teeth, but still had his claws and bulk - but he seemed to know dad had removed his pain, and loved him. He realised that I meant him no harm, and rolled on his back so I could rub his tummy. (bit dodgy that, as all 4 sets of claws are available!!) His purr vibrated around the cage.
Dad regularly walked the cheetahs home on leads after work (he worked from 4am to 12pm) - to give them a bit of exercise.
One youngster took liking to me. Once I had established he didn't want to eat me, and that he really wanted my company, to entertain him while dad had his lunch, I taught him tricks. By the time I left, he could sit to command, catch a ball and even play 'fetch'.
I still feel honoured that these animals showed me trust.

I don't like camels though! They're smelly, farting, gobbing burping lumps that, for no reason (considering their habits) have a superior air - and they don't look where they're going!

How lovely to be able to read all that, Maggie altho sad that he was not in your young life very often.

Lizx

It isn't the full history of what he did, Shirley, he told me so much more when he came back, but at least the grandchildren can see it and believe me :-D

I know he also had a couple of polecats (found abandoned as kits), an owl and a raven when he was young, and a habit of 'picking up' stray dogs and cats.

How lovely to have those records ,usually one has to rely on family stories that sometimes turn out to be a stretch of the truth

My dad worked abroad for all of my teenage years, and until I was in my late 20's.
One of the things I found when clearing out a box was an article from 1981 about what he was doing for those years - he eventually came back to the UK for good in about 1984.
This is a short version of the article.

1981 – Jeddah – Sanitation Foreman
1977 – Part of survey team on the Orinoco, Venzuala
1974 - Surveyor of Nigerian coastline and bush. Updating maps.
Prior to this, (from 1969) he was an instructor for the Royal Saudi Air Force, where he began to acquire his vast knowledge of Saudi customs and ways. In his spare time, he was able to do some travelling in the desert with Bedou and thus learned to speak Arabic.
Gordon enjoys tinkering with engines in his spare time, but perhaps one of his greatest interests is in animals. He grew up in a household where animals were always present – anything from Rhesus monkeys to parakeets . No, he wasn't raised in a Behavioural Research Clinic, his mother was merely very fond of animals. He is, however, interested in animal psychology. He is an associate of the Royal Zoological Society in London. While living in Riyadh, he was also an advisor for the Royal Zoological Gardens there. He has handled a black bear at close range, and is very much at home with big cats. He has even wrestled with a cheetah. Gordon says it is merely a matter of knowing when a cat feels itself disposed to keeping company with a human.