When I was a child, I used to be fascinated by zoos.
The idea of all of these creatures – lizards, mammals, birds, insects – all being kept in the same place seemed too fantastical to exist in reality.
The fact that you could simply walk into these wonderful places (after paying a rather extortionate entrance fee) and gaze as long as you like at all these wonderful creatures seemed all too good to be true.
My parents were always happy to take me there, pleased that I would take such an active interest in animals and how they lived. They imagined that this fascination would turn into a genuine educational interest in Biology. I would, no doubt, grow up to become a Vet or some other kind of well paid Doctor or Scientist – I’m afraid I disappointed both of them in that respect.
The days spent there were full of awe and wonder. The scale and majesty of the elephants surprised and stunned me. I could spend hours studying the strange, yet familiar behaviour of the primates, trying to piece together the missing link between us and them. But, the creatures that interested me most were the reptiles. I still remember the first time I ventured into the reptile house. It was a warm and muggy day, it was even hotter in there.
Pushing through the thick plastic curtains that kept the building warm, a fug of stale air and odd new smells hit my nose.
Tropical foliage wound it’s way up the wall and down from the ceiling – a light mist, emitted from a humidifier, dropped like dew down upon me and hung in clouds at my feet. I felt like I’d entered another world. This wasn’t the primate enclosures and it didn’t feel like the aviary, this was something completely different.
There was a prickly sensation at the back of neck as I edged by way further in. The muggy heat and the new aromas had put me on edge, I was scared and excited all at the same time. With my hand trailing along the vines, I felt my way further through the gloom until I felt the smooth texture of glass and came face to face with a King Cobra. It was motionless, it’s eyes bored into mine, unchanging and unwavering. I stared back and was enthralled. Cold and calculated, I knew that this creature was going to have an enormous impact on my life.
It took time convincing them to invest in my new hobby.
Most parents like to start out with a goldfish to teach their children about the valuable lessons of mortality – without costing them a fortune. I was having none of that though. I read endless books on reptile care and environment management. They soon realised that my interest was not abating and that their only way of appeasing me was by giving in to my demands.
My first reptile was a corn snake, a common starter reptile. My parents asked me what I wanted to call him – and I was speechless.
15 years later he still doesn’t have a name, but he does have plenty more friends.
Leaving your beloved pet in the care of strangers can be a dog-owner’s worst nightmare.
Thankfully, all the worry and fear that I’ve experienced when leaving my dogs at home was allayed on my recent trip to Scotland.
The lodge my husband and I had booked was, unfortunately, not pet-friendly – but thankfully there was a wonderful kennel that was more than happy to take my Labrador at the last minute. I’d always wanted to spend a weekend in Scotland, the promise of gorgeous mountain vistas, rich whiskeys and wonderfully fresh beef appealed to me greatly.
The age-old problem that presents dutiful dog-owners is what to do with our loyal canine companions, when we chose to visit places or stay in hotels that are simply not ‘dog-friendly’. In an ideal world, I’d have a group of dog-loving friends and relatives, all willing and capable of taking care of Charlie – however, we spend all our spare time with him – having little time for other socialising. So when it comes to leaving him in the care of others, the only real option is a kennel.
Many dog kennels in Britain have polarising reputations.
Just take a glance at the Google reviews of a handful of kennels: what you’ll find is glowing reviews touting the wonderful service and luxurious comfort sitting right next to angry tirades, blasting the rude staff and pitiful living environments. Of course, the old adage rings true that ‘you can’t trust everything you read on the internet’.
That’s why it’s always best, in these situations, to seek out some first hand opinions from trusted sources.
Mark and I went to our vets, to take Charlie for his routine vaccinations (a must before kennelling an animal for any period of time) and asked around with surgeons and nurses there. They gave us some ideas and we cross-referenced these with some notable dog behaviourists, just to confirm that we weren’t dropping Charlie off somewhere truly sub-standard.
We found Adie Kennels & Cattery (http://www.adiekennels.co.uk/), a small family run business that had been run for over 30 years, to be the worst kept secret that Scotland had to offer.
They welcome visits for curious owners and keep a sanitary, yet comfortable situation for pets. We felt no qualms whatsoever (apart from the usual guilt) in leaving Charlie there for two nights.
Then it was on to our lodge in the Highlands (http://www.highlandheatherlodges.co.uk/); knowing that our pooch was safe and sound in a decent environment put us at ease and allowed us to have a wonderful weekend away.
If you’ve got any worries about kennels, then do what we did. Spend a good amount of time doing your research. Look at review sites (http://www.edogadvisor.co.uk/) and take the time to go deep into Pet blogs (like our one here!).
You may find that you spend more time looking for a place for your dog to stay, than your own accommodation!
But, the peace of mind that this will grant you, whilst you’re away from your dog, will make it all worthwhile.
Being Intensely Allergic To Your Pets Is Hard Work
Owning and looking after 6 creatures that have the capability of setting off a huge allergic reaction at any point, is almost a job unto itself.
I don’t mind dealing with the stigma of being a ‘crazy cat lady’, it’s something that I’ve almost taken as a badge of honour. If anything, I’m the very limit of that term – many people have called me crazy to surround myself with animals that can physically cause me harm by simply being near me. They’d be right, if I didn’t love them as much as I do.
It’s important in life to surround yourself with people and things that make you happy.
A long time ago, I found out that I was most comfortable in the company of cats. I came from a family that did not hold with keeping pets. Both my parents were host to a number of severe allergens that could be set off at the slightest contact. These ranged from the every day (dairy and wheat) to the more bizarre (my Mother could not come into contact with water for the first 10 years of her life).
My parents dealt with these allergies well, however they did not have the time to raise myself and my two brothers (along with our range of allergies and conditions) as well as allow us to keep pets.
I first discovered that I was allergic to Cats when we visited a distant relative in the South of France.
Aunt Marygold was a strange old woman. Wrapped up in layers of blankets and covered in Cats, her villa in Bordeaux was cutesy, stiflingly hot and filled with the allergens that I soon discovered were toxic to my body. My parents assumed it was something we’d eaten at a restaurant on the way over. They’d seen allergic reactions before, experienced dozens more of them, and knew the symptoms weren’t life threatening.
As I rolled about on the floor with the half dozen cats that Aunt Marygold kept, the itchy tightness of my rashy skin, the wheezing breaths, all melted away in my mind – I was happy with the cats.
It was only after we left my Aunt’s that the symptoms began to subside and I parents successfully put two and two together. By then, however, it was too late. I was besotted by cats and wanted nothing more than to own 6, just like my lonely Aunt Marygold and live with them in an eternal happiness.
My close relationship with Allergy Control during my childhood, coupled with my own frustrating set of Allergens, led me to take close interest in Biology as well as Chemistry. I became obsessed with discovering the cure to my symptoms, so that I could one day own the precious half-dozen feline companions that would complete my life.
I’m still searching for the cure now, but I was far too impatient to wait to get the cats. Dusty, Jane, Horace, Bruce, Teddy and Jasper are the best friends that I have ever had. I understand that it makes me crazy to say that and I do have other human friends.
But, no other living beings have given so much joy as my furry, lethal cat-companions.
Don’t leave your furry friend behind on your next holiday!
Sometimes you might be able to find a close friend or relative to look after your dog for the duration of your holiday – but sometimes it’s simply not worth the worry.
If the idea of leaving them in a kennel doesn’t quite sit right with you, then why not consider these pet-friendly options:
Bowland Fell Park, North Yorkshire
Situated right on the edge of Forest of Bowland, this is a wonderful caravan site that hosts static homes which boast comfortable beds and, most importantly, pet-friendly accommodation.
With the entirety of the forest to explore at your leisure, not to mention the Yorkshire Dales just a 10 minute drive away, this is a wonderful way of seeing lots of the great outdoors with your canine companion.
If you’re looking for a rugged jaunt into the countryside, without the hard night’s sleep of actual camping, then Tyddyn Goronwy’s quirky pods could be just for you.
They might be little more than glorified sheds, but with the added bonus of insulation, security, a TV for cosy nights in and heating – you’ll be hard pressed to find a more affordable, comfortable option for you and your dogs.
Of course, when the summer sun is beating down in glorious England, there’s nothing better than really getting out into the great outdoors.
Caffyns Farm offers exactly that, with a refreshing take on the camping experience. They’re completely dog-friendly and also own a wide selection of ponies that you can ride for £25/hour. There’s a stream for little ones to play in and you’re right in the centre of Exmoor, one of Britain’s loveliest areas.
A night in this classy Pub/Hotel may well set you back a big whack (room prices start at around £125/night) but it’s far and away one of the swankiest place to take your dog.
Dorset’s a gorgeous area for walking your pooch and when you’re both exhausted from hiking round the countryside, Chef Neil Duffet is on hand to cook some delicious a la mode food that’s bound to sate your hunger.
A city break may seem like a rather odd choice to take your dog, but it’s thanks to places like Russel’s of Clapton that it’s becoming a more and more popular choice.
Annette Russell used to work in the the music-industry, now she runs a B&B out of her stylish London property, with the help of her whippet Reggie. It’s set within a more ‘traditional’ East London street – so expect takeaway shops and council estates to bookend this unique experience.
Dairy Cows Tread A Fine Line Every Day, Without Knowing It
If Dairy Cows, and other such creatures (whose yields are relied upon day after day), were granted an increased amount of consciousness or awareness – the pressure they would be under would surely be too much for them.
Although I’ve spent many years living on a Dairy Farm in both my home country of Bavaria in the 80s, as well as more recently with my wife in Dorset, I’ve always had mixed feelings about the relationship between a farmer and his cows. At an early age, I took a cue from my parents – as most children do.
From traditional Bavarian stock, my parents knew nothing but livestock management and dairy farming. They had both come from Dairy farming families, their marriage creating quite the local storm, as their union essentially ended a business rivalry that had existed for decades. Judit and Hal were two star-crossed lovers, who had seen each other from across a crowded showroom.
The first time I met my wife would later mirror that oddly charged scene.
Of course, when my parents met, in 1950s Bavaria, life was a little different. In a time before the popularisation of culture and the proliferation of television, a man’s job and farm were his life. By default then, the farm was emblematic of the entire family’s status and the source of their pride.
As such, when farmers came together for auctions or shows, the presentation of their livestock (and their respective families) represented everything that a man was. At these events, pride was at the forefront and tempers could run high, as sales and bids were decided based on surface traits. However, these events were also a rare chance to socialise and intermingle with people from around the area.
In the dusky corners of the cavernous sheds, where hundreds of cows calmly trundled in procession, Judit and Hal met and talked for hours, sharing their passions for animal care and the great outdoors.
The contradiction between my parents’ sincere love for their creatures and the ruthless view of each animal as a commodity was something that would often confuse me. It’s something that I’ve learnt to come to terms with in the last few years. Running a farm with my wife and relying on the animals for our income does change the nature of our relationship with them.
The 80 or odd animals we keep here in Dorset are relied upon to return on the value that we expended in purchasing them. As much as we can care and nurture their development, if they do not supply us with enough product to sell – then we have to make the hard decision to either sell or butcher them.
I’ve had moments of intense deja vu in the last year or so, as my three kids have started to grow up a little and begin to understand the nature of our business.
Trying to tell them why a certain cow is being led away from the rest is a challenge – but it’s a truth that all farmer’s children must learn in time.