My animal menagerie
Jill Stogdon describes life with her motley crew of assorted rescue pets
Animals have always tugged at my heartstrings and now, in my more mature years, I find myself with two rescue dogs, a rescue cat, two rescue ponies and four rescue battery hens. When my husband was alive we had two lots of time, energy and money to support the beloved menagerie. Now there is just me, on a pension and knocking on a bit. Jinx, the Jack Russell, is ten and suffers from a skin complaint that needs steroids to control it. This makes her constantly hungry and the battle to keep her weight under control is ongoing. Her craftiness is amazing and she will place herself in front of me and go through all her moves to convince me she deserves a titbit. In her heyday she achieved her good citizen’s gold award and loved obedience and heel-work to music lessons. My other dog, Rosie, is six and a Chihuahua-cross. She was a recovering cruelty case when we got her and as aggression was her best defence we all suffered bites. But after a great deal of patience, love and consistency and with the help of a good trainer, she has developed into a fun little dog. Having had all sorts of dogs in my life, Rosie, although only nine inches high at the shoulder, is without doubt the most assertive. The main reason for getting her was to be a playmate for Jinx, but Rosie sees all his bouncy approaches as a threat. Over time, however, they’ve developed a way of living together. Rosie has just retired from several years of Pets As Therapy work, where she brought joy to many and revelled in the admiration she received. As long as she is the centre of attention, life is wonderful! The boss is Ebony, my beautiful black cat. He is loving and gentle, but not above giving the dogs a crafty belt. He lays in wait behind a bush, or on the stairs and when an unsuspecting dog trundles past, will lash out with a quick paw, then beat a hasty retreat, looking smug. He makes me laugh and the dogs show him due respect. I have two ancient Shetland ponies, Monty (20) and Figgy (30). Figgy is a Mini Shetland, standing just 27in at the withers (shoulders). He has Cushings disease, which makes it difficult to shed his thick winter coat and his back teeth have fallen out, so he has to have all his feed in small pieces and a soaked, soft mix to keep weight on him in the winter. He is a bit of a character and kicks the gate if I am a little late with breakfast. The ponies’ great love is a ginger biscuit – but they don’t get too many – and my vegetable garden benefits from quantities of manure. The hens are ex-battery and a scraggy lot, but still laying well. They are beginning to improve in appearance and are particularly keen on leftover rice and spaghetti as treats. They are happy enough in the orchard, scratching for worms and dust bathing. I have a little barter system going with the local pub – they give me all their vegetable peelings and I give them my spare eggs. Now I am on my own I really do not know what I would do without my little gang. They have rescued me. They keep me busy and poor as vet’s bills are daunting these days, but as a rather ill-assorted bunch we manage to live together in comparative peace!