Strange Eating Habits

Bruce’s ability to eat practically anything that was put near him or had fallen into his field of vision was handy on occasions. No need for a dust-buster when it came to crumbs dropping on the floor. Even spills would be slurped up if there was any possibility of nutriment.  He had a really eclectic taste; everything from spaghetti to icecream would be eaten with relish. Even coffee left unattended was prey to his ferocious appetite.  He had, in fact, very few exceptions just lettuce or uncooked mushrooms; anything resembling salad was treated with suspicion.

            I was surprised, therefore, one day at Bruce’s reaction to a crumpet. The crumpet was meant to be my breakfast. After making lunches, tidying up and doing the necessary morning tasks for Aidan and myself, the crumpet sat unattended and unbuttered on a plate until I had run out of time to eat breakfast. Bruce thought he was in with a chance as I made my way to the bin.  He wagged his tail and kept his eyes fixed on the crumpet until I relented and put the crumpet directly into his mouth.  As I finished organising our departure, Bruce trotted off outside.  A few minutes later, he returned with still with the crumpet protruding from his mouth.  He walked up, spat out the untouched crumpet at my feet and looked at me in disgust. Apparently, Bruce had his standards and a cold, unbuttered crumpet definitely did not meet these!

Another unexpected addition to his diet came more from the garden centre than the supermarket shelves.  As a puppy, Bruce tended to chew everything, from stray socks to pieces of wood; there were teeth marks on anything that stood still for long enough.   One of the surprising victims was an innocent ceramic garden gnome. It had been a present for Aidan and had sitting minding its own business on the back porch for some time before Bruce suddenly saw it as appetising. But where to start? Bruce decided at the top and somehow wedged its hat in between the decking boards to snap off the top and then ate from the top right down to leave just the feet where the garden gnome used to be.

            Sometime later, another snack from the garden shop put Bruce in the world of pain.  I had pots of herbs on the back porch that had become a favourite snack for the extensive population of snails and slugs in our backyard.  Unfortunately, I believed the advertisements about some special snail pellets that were apparently repellent to dogs and safe to use in the garden.  Not if your dog had a savage craving for all manner of disgusting things. Bruce saw the bright blue pellets I put on the plants as an ideal appetiser before dinner. As I turned around, I caught sight of Bruce out of the corner of my eye demolishing the topsoil of the pots, complete with snail pellets within seconds of me applying them. I quickly grabbed him, disposed of the rest of the pellets and ran to the phone to call the Vet. They suggested pumping salty water into him for as many times as would completely empty his stomach.  Bruce was NOT HAPPY. Having provided him with nibbles before dinner I then made him throw it all up in the most unpleasant manner and seemed to be annoyed with him to boot!

Failed Hunting Adventures

Bruce was not the only pet to have strange tastes, Eric the Monster Cat would not eat ordinary cat food, apparently he was allergic to it, but he was partial to the odd insect. He would snack on moths, mostly dead ones, and would chase spiders.  His predilection for hunting spiders was not always successful. But his success with birds was non-existent.

Eric was an exceptionally handsome cat.  He had plush short white fur that was thick and soft to touch- if you could get that close.  He became a very large cat and as time went on and the vet appointments for one crisis or another continued, it became very difficult to fit him into a normal cat cage. 

His white fur and size were a source of frustration to him.  Eric was the most incompetent hunter.  He was so white that he literally glowed in the dark.  The birds teased Eric at every opportunity.  I would watch as Eric would spot a bird on the lawn and begin to stalk it from the other side of the garden.  On a sunny day Eric was brilliant white and even with his nose to the ground, Eric trying to hide in the clover was like an elephant hiding behind a bamboo shoot.  The bird would have to be blind not to see Eric coming.  I could almost hear the bird saying, hey dopey I can see you! Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!!!  But Eric persisted with the farce only to be absolutely astonished when the bird flew off just beyond his reach.   He would sit forlornly staring at the sky, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

Eric had a strange relationship with birds, for all his unsuccessful stalking, he would sometimes sit practically next to his bowl oblivious to the birds happily snacking away on his food.  When he became aware of the audacity of the birds, he wouldn’t pounce on them or growl or hiss at them, he would just look pathetically in my direction and bleat pleadingly for me to do something about that those awful creatures stealing my food! 

Eric’s only success was in his hunting insects.  I would often find him snacking on some insect meat with a pair of moth’s wings protruding from his mouth.  In fact the only thing he was useful for was exterminating blowflies and spiders from the house. 

Apart from the spindly Dandy-long-legs variety, the area we lived in was inhabited by Huntsman spiders.  As far as I know Huntsman spiders are not poisonous. They are large, hairy, very scary looking spiders.  They can often grow to quite a size almost to the fill the palm of your hand.  I wouldn’t describe myself as an arachnophobe but I wouldn’t encourage one to sit in my hand.  To Eric, Huntsmen spiders were sport.  He would torture chewing off a leg and watch them try to scramble away, then squash the spider under a paw, to start all over again.  Aidan, at that stage, was terrified of spiders and the sight of Eric playing with a Huntsman did not fill him with joy. 

One night I saw Eric flicking a paw in the direction of a Huntsman that was reared up on its front legs inside the back door.  After about five minutes of this, I had had enough and turfed the spider and Eric outside.  A minute or two later, I went to go out the back door to see Eric with the large spider sitting on top of his head between his ears, like a bizarre black hairy head piece.  Eric knew there was something on his head but no matter which way he turned; up, down or sideways, he couldn’t get a glimpse of what he was.  The spider won its revenge. It wasn’t going to get off to be tortured again.  It was going to stay put. 

You had to admire the spider for its spunk.  How he got on top of Eric’s head, I will never know and whether he ended up as Eric’s dinner still remains a mystery.  But I will always remember Eric sitting with his spider headdress and a quizzical look on his face.
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