Donna and her Pets

 

Artist Reference

She owned four dogs and two cats; one of the cats had a live litter of three and the other had a dead litter of four. She also had an albino budgie. 


73 year old Donna lived in a small government housing dwelling that she now owned. It was filled with knick knacks and junk that she had collected over the years. Bought at school fetes, found on the footpath during big rubbish, given to her by silly neighbours and made out of bottle tops, spare yarn, empty bottles and craft paint. Donna lived alone most of her adult life, except for her on going adoption of stray animals and unwanted, dumped little urchins. She preferred the company of fauna.

Currently she was living with ten animals. As mentioned she had four dogs. Stella the black kelpie and her son Patch the bull mastiff cross. Stella was accidentally impregnated one day at the park and had a litter of three huge pups. She struggled through the labour and birth, but with Donna’s kind hand and gentle words of encouragement, managed to birth all of them over the course of 17 hours and they all came out happy and healthy; stumbling about with closed gooey eyes, sniffing hard as their mum licked them clean from snout to tail until they found her teats and latched on for dear life, sucking calmly while poor Stella slept away her fatigue; satisfied, blissful. Two of the pups were given away ‘free to good home’ through the local paper. Donna wasn’t about to turn them in to the pound if she could help it and wasn’t prepared to take them to a pet shop. They both went to good homes; one to a 20ish year old boy, a student who wanted a companion and the other a family with two young children, living in a house with a huge yard in the mountains. The third Donna couldn’t part with. He was the baby and Stella was so fond of him that she never let him out of her sight. He was a little smaller than the other two and unlike Stella who was jet black almost all over, Patch was just that; an elaborate patch work of black and white. Donna knew that this mother and son would be a part of her life for a long time; they weren’t just passing through like many of the animals that she cared for.

The other two dogs weren’t as interesting or intelligent. Bob was a bitsa. She honestly had no idea what breeds had made such an ugly little mutt. He was the colour of peanut butter and about the size of a Jack Russell, but he was a fat little bugger with stubby legs and a long thin tail that had a fluffy bit on the end. His ears were floppy, but if he was agitated, which was most of the time, he could stand them up on his head like a Doberman. He did not respond to his own name, he dug up or chewed up anything he could get a hold of and he was impossible to house train, he shat everywhere. She tried newspaper, but he just shredded it; she tried walks, but he waited til he was home; she tried reward, but he gladly accepted them and defecated where he sat. His eyes never seemed to focus on anything for too long and he certainly didn’t make eye contact like Stella and Patch did, who Donna felt could understand every word she uttered to them. Bob was nuts. Sometimes he ran around and bumped into things to the point where Donna seriously believed he had either psychological problems or a brain tumour. The vet laughed at both assertions and surmised that he was just a unique breed that was not going to be tamed easily and needed some special attention. That’s all Donna needed to hear to fall in love with the little guy.

Finally, the last dog in Donna’s permanent pet family was Cory, another bitsa that resembled a dingo in colour and appearance, but had German shepherd in him and liked to think of himself as pack leader. Stella and Patch often reminded him that they disagreed with that pecking order and Donna had to remind all of them that they were all wrong. Bob was often too busy licking his testicles to notice the power struggle at play. Cory was the only dog Donna had obtained as a full grown. He wandered into her street and after discovering that he was not micro chipped and nobody was going to claim him in response to the flyers she put up or the ad in the local paper, she realised that she was stuck with him. By then she was attached to him anyway and loved his bravado, especially if she felt like going for a walk late at night and anybody was around that could have posed a threat to her. Donna felt the safest with Cory. He was her protector and although Stella was a mother and would tear anyone to bits had they come near her Patch or her owner, Stella had a soft side and was more nurturing than protective. Cory had a dark side; he was loyal and obedient and mostly placid; but he had the potential to be vicious with strangers and had a temper on him that he sometimes found hard to control around the other animals and around some people, especially men. Donna had to keep a close eye on him and although she refused to isolate him, she made sure he was preoccupied, fed to a stupor and aware that Donna would have her hands on his kryptonite at a moment’s notice; her whistle. He hated that bloody dog whistle and it rendered him incapacitated anytime Donna even raised it to her lips. The other dogs’ ears pricked up if she blew it, but they weren’t as offended by it as Cory was. Donna’s dogs were as close to relationships as she ever got. She loved her dogs more than she had loved any people in her life and they adored her back. She talked to them as though they were human and respected them more. She didn’t go far, maybe to the shops or for local walks and she never took them with her all at once, choosing instead to give them turns based on their behaviour, where she was going and the time of day it was and which one or two of them were up for it. More often than not she took Cory out at night. She took Stella and Patch together and always to the shops because Stella could look after Patch when they were tied up anywhere, like the good mum that she was. Bob was taken out for special excursions when she had no other errands to run. She took him to the park (not the dog park, he was terrible with other dogs), but just this huge field not far from home, or the beach to let him play in the surf away from the other swimmers, down by the rocks where the surfers and families avoided going. That way he wouldn’t be a bother to anyone except Donna, who was always exhausted when she took Bob out. He was impossible to watch because he was so erratic! Sometimes Donna just closed her eyes and drifted off hoping that he didn’t get into too much trouble because there was no point trying to prevent it.

Donna had five cats, two adults and three kittens. The kittens were in the process of being given away. Shelly was a black and white, nasty little snob. She was only ever affectionate at breakfast or dinner time and kept mostly to herself. Shelly was a kitten when Donna found her at the shops in a box that said in black texta, ‘please take, it’s free’. She was a gorgeous little kitten that slept for the majority of the day, but as she got older she became more and more fiercely independent and a little aggressive. She didn’t want to be stroked or held, she rarely purred. She loved to sit in the sun and clean herself as most cats do, but she never chased anything, she didn’t explore, she wasn’t interested in the other animals and as soon as she was approached she calmly got up, gave an irritated snort, raised her nose and tail in the air and walked away to another spot of solitude. Eventually the other animals knew to ignore her back. She became impregnated not long after Donna brought her home, just a few days before she was going to take her to the vet to be de sexed and micro chipped. Donna thought she was still too young and was locking her up at night, but she did the deed in the day and before Donna knew it, Shelly was pregnant. In the end, she was pleased that she could allow her to have at least one litter before closing her factory down, but it ended in disaster. Shelly went into labour prematurely and Donna found her cleaning and trying to rouse four dead kittens. It was a sight Donna doesn’t care to reflect on. She hadn’t seen Shelly for a couple of days when she’d gone to bring her inside for the night and was worried she had been hit by a car or stolen by someone who had noticed she was pregnant and planned to sell her kittens for a profit. The last thing Donna assumed was that Shelly had already found a place to birth and had gone into labour. It was early one Wednesday morning when Donna spotted a shadow moving in the shrubs at the back fence. She thought maybe it was an injured bandicoot or a fallen magpie, but as she got closer she saw Shelly’s unmistakable black and white paws. She moved a few branches away and saw that Shelly had a kitten in her mouth; grasped in her teeth by the crook of its neck, wet, limp, lifeless. Then she saw the other three, one near her mother’s bum, the other two curled up together near her feet; all three of them still as well. Donna’s heart broke for Shelly who appeared to be cleaning them and nudging them to move. They didn’t. They were barely formed and were tiny, but had fur and limbs and bumps where their eyes would be. Donna wasn’t sure if she should remove the kittens or attempt to pick up and comfort Shelly first, so she did neither. She just sat on the ground beside her and watched and waited until she knew for sure that Shelly understood what had happened. It only took about 20 minutes or so, but eventually Shelly just got up and walked away from her dead babies, found a spot in the sun and proceeded to clean herself, leaving her litter where they were born for the birds or the possums to take them. Donna did instead. She got a pair of gloves from the shed and picked up each tiny little kitten and placed them in a large plastic ice cream container, they all fit. She replaced the lid because she couldn’t bear to look at them, poor little pets. She found a spot near the jacaranda and began to dig with a small spade. When the hole was deep enough she gently placed each one of the kittens in the hole side by side, absent mindedly sprinkled a handful of fallen purple jacaranda flowers over them and covered the grave up with dirt. Then she sat in sad silence for a little while; out of respect, but also trying to think of a way to prevent the dogs from digging up the grave, or any other visiting animal for that matter. She remembered there were some old bricks under the house and thought she would cover the grave with them later that day. She ended up making an improvised brick seat over the grave, which she cemented together and she would go and sit on it with a cup of tea when she felt contemplative. That woeful day, before she got up to go, she looked up to see Shelly had paused mid paw lick and was looking straight at her. She could have sworn she saw her blink slowly in acknowledgement before going back to grooming herself. 

Donna’s other cat was Ruby. She was orange and black and literally had half a black face and half an orange face; a line went right down the centre of her face to separate the colours like someone had painted her. She was such a beautiful cat. Ruby was a gift from the lady that worked at the supermarket, probably one of the only people that Donna regularly had a human conversation with and although polite, even pleasant, Donna only ever spoke to her because it was necessary to buy groceries. Once they had spoken a handful of times, Donna continued to go to her check out so she wouldn’t have to become acquainted with anyone else. This woman had given Ruby to Donna as a birthday present, even though it wasn’t Donna’s birthday. Her daughter’s cat had a litter and she was the last kitten left. The woman brought it in to work every day for a week until Donna showed up to buy her groceries and presented it to her enthusiastically. She explained that she didn’t know when her birthday was, but she knew she loved animals and this kitten was the most beautiful she had ever seen and belonged with someone who would truly appreciate her. Donna was flabbergasted at such kindness and fell in love with Ruby in an instant.

Ruby too became pregnant before Donna had a chance to de sex her and once again she thought maybe it was a good thing for her to have at least one litter. This time everything went as well as when Stella had given birth to Patch and his siblings. Ruby had become big and cumbersome towards the end of her pregnancy and waddled about with some difficulty. Donna made sure the other animals were out of her way, especially Cory who liked to nip at the cats when his bullying antics were reciprocated angrily or ignored by the other dogs. Donna decided to isolate Ruby at one end of the house, the good end with the nice living room and Donna’s own bedroom; a place she never let the animals enter. She made Ruby a little birthing suite so she wouldn’t stay out overnight and find her own place, possibly in danger like Shelly had. Donna also wanted this scenario to be as removed from Shelly’s traumatic experience as possible. She washed Ruby’s usual bed and lined it with a soft blanket; she placed this in a dark corner at the end of the lounge on top of a huge old bath sheet, which was on top of a large plastic bag, ripped open and laid out like a drop sheet. She set her food and water dishes nearby and made sure the water dish was always filled and the dry food fresh. Then she just left Ruby to her own devices and checked on her as often as she could. The day of the birth Donna was woken by Ruby meowing low in between purrs in the middle of the night and she knew immediately that the time had come. She didn’t want to disturb Ruby, but didn’t want to miss anything either, so she crept silently in the dark holding a small lit candle in a glass jar for light, along the dark corridor from her bedroom to the good lounge room. There was Ruby on her bed, almost sitting up, legs open and licking at her bum. Donna didn’t have to wait long for the first kitten to emerge, covered in placenta and already wriggling. Ruby tore the sack open gently with her teeth and began to clean the kitten. Soon after a second kitten slid out and the sack tore open in the process. Ruby licked both kittens alternatively and gently nudged them side by side. The final kitten emerged slowly and Ruby seemed to be panting with exhaustion. She bent over herself and gently pulled the last little baby out with her teeth, tearing open the sack and vigorously licking the kitten’s face. It was all over in a moment and Ruby didn’t stop licking and eating and cleaning until there was not a trace of the birth. Each tiny offspring blindly flailed around, shoved here and there with its mother’s tongue lashing it, knocking it over. Donna giggled with pure happiness, tears joyously streaming down her face. Ruby gathered her babies with her paws towards her middle and guided them to her teats where they latched on and drank for the next few days with barely a breath. Thomas was the first born kitten, a male with a big beautiful head; he was the colour of milky tea. The other two were black and white females; one was a fluffy little thing, it looked almost Persian, the other a shorter haired one. Donna worried that Shelly would think they were hers, but she ignored them like she did all the other animals the short time they were there before Donna gave them away. Donna named the fluffy one Sheebah and the short haired one Penny. The kittens thrived and Ruby lavished them with attention and mostly, tongue baths. Penny and Thomas were playful and energetic, but Sheebah was mummy’s little runt. She was the last one born, the one Ruby had pulled out with her teeth and she was always to be found under her mother’s belly drinking away or curled up and napping. Donna let them stay in their sanctuary for a good six weeks until Ruby was strong again and the kittens robust enough to eat independently and maybe even be separated from their mum. It is now 11 weeks since they were born and Donna hasn’t given any of them away yet. She’s worried about the girls because they haven’t been de sexed and is contemplating letting them have at least one litter of their own, but is worried that the cats are multiplying way too quickly.

Donna’s last companion is her albino budgie Casper. Casper lives in a cage hanging above the kitchen bench; out of reach of the kittens who seem to be fascinated by this talking, singing little creature. Ruby and Shelly spend the majority of the day outside in the sun and sleep as soon as they’ve been let in and have had their dinner so they show little interest in Casper, but the kittens use the cat flap like a rotating door and are in and out of the house all day long when Donna is home and hasn’t locked the screen door over the flap.

Casper is incredibly intelligent and talkative. Once, not long after Donna brought him home from the vet where she’d taken Bob to have a tick seen to (she rescued the albino from being put down as a dud that was dumped at the vet’s door), she discovered that he was tangling up his bell ball with his swing. The ball hung from a shiny silver chain alongside his green plastic swing and had a bell inside it and hanging from it. Somehow Casper was winding the chain around the side of the swing tightly. Donna kept having to unwind it and thought the bird rather stupid because it happened every other day. Then one day Donna had her back turned and heard the distinct sound of the bell that hung from the ball ringing rhythmically. She turned to see Casper holding onto the swing with his claw like a handle. He had wound the ball’s chain around the swing tightly so that when his claw grasped the swing he was able to ring the bell. It was amazing, such intelligence for such a small creature.

Donna knew she was old, she wasn’t well most days and it took every ounce of her strength and the entire day to tend to her animals. To feed them, clean up after them, wash the dogs and entertain them. She knew she wasn’t going to live forever, but for now they were all she had and she was everything to all ten of them. The only thing Donna hoped for was that the day she died, she died at home and her friends didn’t eat her.