Friday Critter Blogging

Once upon a time, Julie and Richard and I lived in Fairbanks in a log house with moose antlers over the front door. Since Horney Hall seemed a bit much for the name of a house with children, we called it Antler Manor. If you look carefully, you can see the antlers as well as the newly turned earth of our vegetable garden. This house had originally been a one room cabin, belonging to a lady of the night, and had grown, one room at a time over the decades. Sadly, it is no longer there, having been purchased and torn down to create a parking lot for the church next door.

(I don't know -- to tear down an ex-house of ill repute for a church parking lot just seems wrong to me.)
At various times we shared Antler Manor with other people, and we always shared it with critters. The first acquired was Julie's dog, Samantha, who was half Labrador and half Saint Bernard. Sam was an eternally patient dog, allowing all of these other animals to climb on and sit on her. Also, she allowed Julie to garb her in long dresses and to crawl right into her dog house and watch her puppies being born. Such a wonderful dog, I will miss her forever.

Then came my cat, The Grey Mouser, and Richard's cat, Fafhrd the Barbarian. They were good at climbing the family Christmas trees and knocking them over, so that we had to run guy wires to the curtain rods to secure them. Also, they once cornered a Saint Bernard named Thor who was trying to catch the parrot and scratched his nose until he backed off and Julie and Richard were able to wrestle him outdoors.

Then Richard got a rabbit, which he named Playboy. (Don't talk to me about this, it wasn't my idea.) Playboy, like all of the beasts, ran free about the house, returning to his cage to use the bathroom.





The final addition to our home zoo was Grandma, an Amazonian parrot. Initially, he (he came to us with that gender and that name and there you are) belonged to Julie, but she gave him to me for Christmas, and so he was mine. He loved to grab onto a walnut (in shell) and be lifted into the air by his beak. He was a most affectionate bird, flying about the house and landing on my shoulder to have his neck scratched. I was always amazed, when I felt how very thin his neck was, that he was so trusting. I could easily have killed him, but he offered his little neck to me and never considered that he was in any danger. The way animals trust us will never cease to amaze me.


Although this picture is kind of fuzzy because they were both in motion, you can see that Fafhrd and Grandma were good friends. Fafhrd used to curl up against the cage on the outside, and Grandma would snuggle up on the inside, and they would be fur to feathers, and both purr.

The one time we needed another person in the house with a camera, was a Sunday morning when the kids had crawled in bed with me to read. Suddenly I realized that, starting left to right, was Richard (ten at the time), Fafhrd, me, Mouser, Julie (eight), with Playboy and Samantha curled up on our feet and Grandma perched on my knee.

If critters can get along, why can't people?

P. S. I'm home.