A child of the 1950's

Chapter Five

Pets

We always had a cat and a budgie. The budgie lived in a cage on top of the old utility sideboard. The budgie was called Peter and he was always given time to fly around the room. My dad taught the budgie to say 'Pretty Patricia' (blushes with embarrassment) when I was a baby. I was too small to remember that, thank goodness! Mum took good care of the budgie and gave him seed and water, cuttlefish and sprays of millet. Sometimes, mum put a budgie bath of water in the entrance of his cage and he splashed about in the water. For a special treat, he would get pieces of orange to eat which he enjoyed. I have always loved budgies, they are happy, vibrant, beautiful birds.

We did have several budgies actually, one after the other, they were all blue and all called Peter. Ha, ha.

I can remember the day the first budgie died. He'd died one morning and was dead by the time I got back from school at lunch time. I cried and cried and didn't want to go back to school for the afternoon, but my mother persuaded me. She said it would take my mind off of it if I did and, of course, she was right, but I was upset for several days. After a while, we bought another blue budgie.

My cat was a tortoiseshell, called Timmy and I adored him. He never scratched and was so gentle, even his face looked like he was smiling. I spent a lot of time with my cat. He was very special, I was broken hearted when he died in my teens. No cat we had afterwards was special like him. He spoiled me for any other. He used to sit with his chin and his front paws resting on the top rung of a dining chair, his tummy along the inside of the upright dining chair and his feet sticking out at the bottom. It always looked very funny, but I think he was very clever. He must have had the most kisses of all the cats in the world.