While I consider myself to be quite the cat person, so far my adult life has remained reasonably pet-free. It was not always the case. After all, what six-year-old has not asked for, and been given, a goldfish? Named "Jaws", it proved not to be a sturdy creature, despite being treated to a very nice bowl and the only slighly cheaper single-coloured rocks at the bottom.
Personally I liked the multi-coloured ones, but it was not to be. And neither was 'Jaws', who left us all too quickly, perhaps in protest at the clumsy and ill-considered name foisted upon him by an otherwise eager six year old.
In contrast, Georgie the budgie was an extremely hardy animal, merrily chirping away in his birdcage since pretty much the earliest time I can remember, right up until his untimely demise some 14 years later. Even at such an advanced age, I was not at the time aware that Georgie was in fact Georgie 3 - Georgies number 1 and 2 having expired during their respective trips to the vet some years earlier.
I should have paid more attention. But all the Georgies were green, with a blue nose, and they all said "Georgie" and bobbed their heads up and down in the way that was to be expected. Somehow I was simply unaware that in fact for most of the time, I was dealing with not Georgie 1, but an identical replacement.
Perhaps it is the case, then, that for children, pets never really die - they just stop getting replaced. What a depressing thought. How did I get on this subject anyway?
Oh right, pets. I often think that it would be nice to have a pet again, but I wonder if it isn't too much of a responsibility. After all, any caged or tanked animal would need regular care and attention. I like to think that I could do that, but what if I couldn't? And the more mobile animals, such as cats and doggies, probably couldn't exist well in a house currently full of boxes and things that would fall over and break if nudged by the slightest breeze.
As I said, I'm more of a cat person. Cats seem to be playful and interesting, and very much an equal thinker, a force of nature comparable to any human. Doggies, on the other hand, seem to be very much more interested in rolling in their own stinkiness, and behaving in a slobbery manner, generally jumping up and down and barking unless walked regularly. Yes, dogs offer much more potential for exercise and stink. To say nothing of the unpleasantness and trauma I suffered at the hands of their genus as a small child. Of which, more at a future date.
But, in the meantime, and despite the relatively unsatisfactory nature of proper doggies, I am pleased to say that there is a new arrival in my house. A genuine old English Sheepdog named Max, pictured above.
OK, you may have already detected that my use of the word "genuine" in that last sentence is not strictly true. Max is in fact a puppet. A puppet in need of a bit of a haircut, in fact, but otherwise, a very fine and very entertaining 24 inch puppet, imported special from some expert puppet-makers in America. Max has won awards, and he has a moving mouth, and a tongue, and lovely floppy ears too. What a good boy.
I guess the question here is whether I have entirely lost my mind, or whether it's actually quite acceptable for a 34-year-old to suddenly decide "Yes, I think I will try my hand at amateur puppeteering." Actually I have been fortunate enough to meet some proper puppeteers in real life and they're awfully decent people. Funny, too.
Either way, when I saw that doggie in the window, I couldn't say no. And I am already covered in dog hair. Tomorrow we can go shopping for collars and a name tag.
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