Today, as I drove Belle to the vet, a nagging feeling crept over meI wondered if Id made a terrible mistake. Somehow, our home now had two hapless creatures, instead of just one…
It all became clear the day the kitten arrived. Well, arrived is perhaps too gentle a wordhe was found behind the bins outside Sainsburys, dumped without a thought. Id only gone out to take the rubbish and came home with a new family member.
We named him Dodger, after dodgy luck. It fit him perfectly.
His debut at home was almost a disastertwo paws straight into a steaming bowl of stew on the kitchen table. As I tried to scoop up the wailing, squirming thing, he managed to dunk his back legs in the pot of cream meant for pudding. And from then on, there were no quiet days…
Dodger found himself in trouble more often than not. Once, he managed to sprain all four paws simply by hopping off the bed. Hed get knocked on the head by the same cups, bowls, and vases he toppled over from the shelvesnever learning, always springing directly into the line of fire.
If there was a saltshaker left unguarded on the table, all hands would dart out to keep it safe, because everyone knew Dodger would land smack on target!
He survived three electric shocksnine lives, indeed! Most cats wouldnt have made it, but some guardian angel must be watching out for Dodger, and three times the vet managed to revive him…
He had a worrying fascination with mop buckets and more than once had to be fished out, spluttering and shivering. Buckets could never be left unattended after that.
Dodgers jumps were legendary for all the wrong reasonshe had an uncanny knack for bouncing off walls, corners, mirrors, and armrests, never landing where he intended.
You get the picture.
I even dragged him to a couple of fortune-tellers in our corner of Manchester. They found it all terribly amusing, pocketed their thirty quid, waved an egg around (some sort of odd ritual), but after Dodger smashed a tea set at each house, word spread. No one would see us after that.
Tired of the endless mishaps, I rang my old friend Lizzie for advice, and she cheerily suggested giving Dodger a companionanother cat or even a little dog.
The idea delighted me, and with much excitement (and just as much expense£250!), we welcomed a rather intimidating chihuahua named Buster into the fold. Intimidating? I challenge anyone to meet a chihuahua up close and NOT be unsettled by those huge eyes and frantic yapshalf bark, half cough.
Youd understand if you saw one yourself.
Everything changed the next morning. We live in a detached house in the countryside, and, well, we have mice. Dodger isnt afraid of themon the contrary, he quite enjoys watching them scurry about and even plays chase, which is precisely why wed set a few mouse traps.
One of these traps, unfortunately, ensnared our new, dog-shaped flatmate Buster…
Thats how I found myself, once again, driving a whimpering pet to the vet, and pondering if Id condemned our family to unending bad lucknow we had two accident-prone creatures instead of one.
Dodger took Buster under wing, and off theyd patrol the garden together. Double trouble needed double the attention. They fell foul of ants, wasps, and bees. The geese would nip, the chickens would peck. Our chores only multiplied.
Then, something utterly unexpected changed everything…
My husband kept his car, the battered Ford Focus, parked out front. Every morning, coffee in hand, hed lock the gate, hop in, and drive off to work.
But this morning, Dodger, having already overturned the mug and flung a slice of toast to the floor, bolted for the door and planted himself solidly in the way.
My husband, exasperated, tried to shoo him offonly to get a swipe and an arched back in return.
You little menace! he shouted. First you spill my coffee and now you block my way? Scarper, you terror!
Trying to nudge Dodger aside with his foot, he didnt notice Bustera spectacle of bravery, or folly, Im not surewhich emerged barking and coughing, standing his trembling ground in front of Dodger.
The tiny dog, all sinew and squeak, bared his miniature teeth, eyes full of mischief and determination: Not on my watch! Youll have to go through me!
Things escalated rapidly.
Oh, come on! my husband spluttered. Im going to be late, and you two are staging a sit-in?
He dashed upstairs and shook me awake.
I need to get to workthose two wont let me out the front door!
Who? What? I groggily replied, but together we went downstairs.
Just as we reached the furry duo, a loud crash echoed from outside.
We raced out the front gate. A massive lorryone of those that delivers milk to the shopshad thundered down the lane, brakes shot, and ploughed straight into my husband’s car, crumpling it into scrap metal.
His fresh mug of coffee slipped from his hand. The lorry driver was whisked away by ambulance, poor mana heart attack, they later told us.
*****
From then on, Dodger and Buster would let my husband leave, but each morning, before stepping out, hed pause and ask the pair, So, chaps, all clear out there? Buster would bare his teeth in a grin and nod solemnly…
Youd think, after such luck, things would turn around. Youd be wrong.
The two still attract chaos wherever they go. Their adventures seem never-ending, but now, nobody throws their hands up in despair or keeps a running tab of damages. We just carry them in our arms, kiss away the cream and gravy stains. Buster has the finest new collar, and Dodger sports scratching posts in every corner, not to mention a luxurious little bed of his own.
Of course, he never sleeps therepreferring our feet, from which he tumbles noisily at least once a night.
At the ensuing racket, Buster comes running from his own bed, coughing heroically, ready to defend his beloved cat.
Half an hour later, we all settle down again, everyone tucked up in our marital bed, with those two nestled safely between usuntil morning, at least.
And if you wonder whats the point of all this, feel free to skip ahead.
But, as always, its about love. Take it from meDodger and Buster are cherished not because theyre lucky, or despite being unlucky, but simply because theyre ours.
And that, in the end, is the greatest fortune of all.
