I have mentioned my pets in the past and shared photos of three of them here. Brin, my first dog I had when I was 9 years old. Miley on both here and on my previous blog I used to write, and Daz, my hamster, who was my final pet, who passed away. 

And you will have known my cat, Lady, also on my previous blog as well, as well as when she had her own blog. 😊😁

I think I have mentioned on my previous blog about owning a couple of cockatiels as well as mentioning that here. I mention one of them here, Kym. But I also had another one who I named Misty who was younger. But I can't seem to find a photo of him. I thought I had taken photos of him.

The other pets I have had but I have no photos to show for it were budgies, canaries and goldfish I had before I had my dog, Brin.

For this post, I wanted to share my love for the pets I have owned where I have photos of them. So some you may have seen before and some you won't have.

I hope you enjoy this post.

Brin was my first dog. I was 9 years old when I had him and he was my best mate. 

When dad allowed me to walk further away from the home with him, I would walk some miles. A circular route and when I came back I would let dad know I was back in our area, then I was straight back on the field next to our home, with Brin.

I was always happy being out with Brin. I was out for some hours and I fed him and brushed him. I did not need to be told to look after him. I was dedicated.

Lucy was mine and my mum's first cat, who we had from a kitten.

Lucy went missing when she was about 3 years old. 

She was a skinny looking cat at times, who could easily be put off her food because Smokey was putting her off. We had to put measures in place to stop this that worked.

Lucy also looked younger than her age.

But that last day I saw Lucy, I can't help but think that she packed her bags. 

Lucy came back to the house one afternoon and had a bite to eat. Next thing I heard growling and I thought Smokey was up to her tricks. But when I saw Smokey's reaction, I then realised for the first time ever, that it was Lucy who was doing the growling to put Smokey in her place, who was once again trying to be domineering. 

Lucy then walked past Smokey after making her back off and went out and that was the last time I had ever seen Lucy.

Someone responded to my posters and said they had seen a dead cat at the side of the road and she moved it off the road.

I then learnt a lady who loves cats in our area buried her. The TV man knew her and saw the latest cat to be buried. But it wasn't Lucy because when I asked did he had seen the build of the cat? As in fat, skinny, or average looking cat. He pointed to a cat in his shop and said it was the same as that one in size. I then knew it wasn't our cat. So I never knew what happened to her in the end. I am hoping that maybe she found another home.

Smokey was our second cat. (Mine and my mum's. ) Although Smokey loved a fuss from me, she was all my mum. She followed my mum everywhere. She was so cute with what she used to do with my mum. 

When my mum would be at her twin tub doing the washing, Smokey would either be sitting behind her on the floor, tapping very gently on the back of her leg, to let her know she was there for attention. Or Smokey would sit on a very small worktop next to the sink and tap the back of her arm very gently to let her know she was there and wanted attention.

Smokey used to be found lying in the sink. If you let the tap dribble, she would drink from it.

Smokey would also join my mum at bedtime. 

Although she was cute with the above and gentle, there was this other side to her, a domineering cat who tried to be boss of the house. She would always start a fight with Lucy and, being a big girl, would end up being on top of Lucy, pinning her down every time. Her back legs kicking into Lucy and there be fur flying.

I would end up going with a newspaper to separate. I felt so sorry for Lucy and I wasn't happy with Smokey for doing that.

Smokey was greedy with food. It seemed to be a fight for her. So whether as a kitten she had to fight for her mummy's teat and that's why she was as she was, is the only way I can think that was her nature. A fight to survive.

Smokey used to get away with things with my mum. But with me, she wasn't going to get away with it, with me. For my mum to not put her in her place from the start meant there was snatching of treats that were given which would result in her hand being scratched. 

With me, after she bit my thumb from snatching a treat, she learnt that if she wasn't going to take it gently, then she wouldn't get that treat and miss her turn while the other cat had one.

When I gave treats to the cats, I would stretch out a leg to separate them, so Smokey wouldn't put Lucy off. Because she would. If Smokey was to try and lean over to see or get close, I would raise my leg. That was enough for Smokey to know she couldn't come across it. So lifting my leg up was only ever needed a couple of times to move her back to her place.

I would then stick my little finger out and say steady, as I offered her a treat. If she was not to take it steady, I would quickly remove my hand and try again, offering the treat while saying steady. If she again tried to take the treat too quickly, I would again move my hand quickly away and show her where her treat was now going, which was on the same side as she was on, and I placed it next to me on the sofa. Smokey knew not to jump up and take it and it meant she now missed her turn and I would give a treat to Lucy.

I then went back to Smokey, offering that treat again and this time she took it gently and I praised her as she did this, saying good girl. Smokey soon got the gist of this and giving her treats became a pleasant experience. But mum could not do this. But if I spoke to Smokey in the same tone as I would when offering, and instructed my mum to remove her hand quickly and put her treat next to you on the sofa and give Lucy her treat from the bag. Smokey knew that she had to take much nicer next time for that food.

My mum would see how well behaved she was while I did this and wonder why she couldn't do the same and I said that because I am not letting her get away with it.

The other word Smokey didn't like was "back," emphasising the "ck" part of "back." This meant no to her.

Smokey had been outside, but she was never a cat that wanted to and so would mostly stay inside.

Smokey was 13 years old when she had to be put down to sleep due to health problems that could not be fixed in the end and with her quality of life at that point not good. Smokey would only have been suffering if my mum had not made that decision.

Smokey had good years with us.

Sayba was a black labrador crossed with a whippet, I think. But when I bought him as a pup, the owners thought he might be crossed with a spaniel. To me, there was no trait of being crossed with a spaniel anywhere. As he was growing up and when I looked at him and watched how he ran, my heart said whippet. 

He was a loyal dog and learnt things that I taught him.

Toby was a border collie who I had from a pup. But sadly, I had to give him a new home at the age of about 1 year old because work I had didn't turn out as planned and I couldn't afford to keep two dogs. 

I closely vetted and so I know he went to a good home and he settled in very well and got up to new tricks.

Kym was my cockatial.

Kym was a lovely whistler. But she also spoke just one thing over and over again, "pretty Kym." She would move her head in a rhythm, cocking it to one while saying it.

Kym would look at herself in the mirror and if I was sat by her cage, she would peek from behind it, looking at me. I would say peek-a-boo at times when she did that, moving my head to the side. 

If Kym felt she wasn't getting attention from me while I was there, Kym would then bang her mirror a few times to get it.

She sadly passed away at the age of, I think, 3 years old. I was with her when she died. 

We (me and my mum) came across this cat when me and my mum were searching for our missing cat, Lucy.

I took this cat on, with the agreement from my mum with the person going to arrange having it taken to a cat rescue place and I continued trying to find her original home for a further 6 weeks before claiming her as mine.

I named her Lady.

She was a character this one. 

After taking half a day to feel somewhat comfortable in our home. (My mum and me.) She would growel to start with whenever I moved a bit, like leaning forward to get my mug of tea while she sat on my lap.

And when it came to me wanting to get off the sofa, she did not want to come off my lap.

It took another month for the growling to stop.

Lady looked up to me and was mostly with me, but she didn't mind having a fuss from my mum.

When Lady accepted affection from us, you had to stroke her a certain way. She preferably liked only being touched from head to shoulders. She didn't like your hand going beyond that point. The only way you could get past that would be a stroke from head to tail in one movement and you could only get away with that twice.

If you rested your hand on the middle of her back. (This was mum who would do this.) I would see Lady twitch her tail and knew what would be coming next and I had no time to warn my mum. Lady had hit twice. The first tap is a warning. The next one will be the claws dug in. Mum had done this a few times, forgetting where she had her hand before she stopped doing it, even though she knew Lady didn’t like that.

Lady showed Smokey that she wasn't going to be bossed about. They kept apart from each other and there were no fights at all. It was just the initial glaring at each other and tail twitching, which I noticed Smokey did not win with her further body language of ears folding back and her very slowly, backing away. 

Lady didn't like fireworks and would hide. When she was living with me and my mum, I encouraged her to sit with me on the landing where I closed all the doors to bedrooms and bathroom to cut out the firework noises and also an occasion thunder and lightning which she didn't like. So, the next time it happened, she would go there. But in the last few years of her life, when I expected her at the back of the sofa, she was sitting on the windowsill.

In Lady's old age, she mellowed a bit.

When me and Lady moved into our own place, she would alert me to the post being delivered. So I wondered if she sensed I had hearing loss by doing that.

My first Syrian hamster. A female who I named Bubbles.

Bubbles liked to be handled and liked to come out of her cage for cuddles, or 10 minutes in her ball. Running around the room in it.

My last cat was from Cats Protection and I always said if I was to have any cats again, I would only go to Cats Protection to give an older cat a home.

Her name was already Miley when I chose her from Cats Protection and I kept it to that name.

Miley was adopted on the condition of being the only cat in the home and to be kept inside because of her background. 

When Miley was first brought to cats protection, she came with urine burn marks all down the back of her legs and they had to treat her for conjunctivitis which had just cleared up as I chosen her. 

Miley was underweight too, but had put on some weight at Cats Protection. But she soon put on her weight when with me.

A person who brought her in to Cats Protection said that she took it on from owners who had kept the cat under the kitchen sink cupboard with just a litter tray and the door cupboard closed on her because a son of theirs had asthma. She couldn't keep it in the end because her cat was bullying it and brought it to Cats Protection. 

Miley followed me around everywhere in the house and she was a very affectionate cat. Miley would shove her face in mine all the time. Rubbing her face on mine and she would like to cuddle up. Miley would even drop herself backwards so that I had to support her in my right arm like a baby and she fell asleep like that on her back long enough for me to get arm ache.

Miley was about 2 years old when I had her and she was 5 or 6 years old when she was put to sleep at my home because she was deteriorating after finding out her body was riddled with cancer.

Miley's love for me never changed from the start to the end. The above photo is one of a few I had took during my final week with her.

I first named my hamster Daisy because when I bought the hamster from Pets At Home, the syrian hamster was sold to me as a female. But as my hamster matured, it was clear that this hamster was a boy and so I named him Daz.

A very nervous hamster that Pets At Home told me that he would squeal when held. Because of this, he was sold at a reduced price.

Until in his later years, when I took him to the vets to have his claws clipped, I could only get close to him by offering a treat. But nothing further. But after he started having his claws trimmed at the vets, which meant he had to be handled to have that done, I found he would eventually let me stroke him. But only that. 

I would use a cardboard tube, holding both ends and transfer him that way to his carrier, as this was a less stressful way to handle him.

He passed away while I was with him, prior to a vets appointment I made. 

The vet told me what I expected and that was that it looked like he had a tumour in his abdominal area.

© "Liz's Onward Journey," by Elizabeth Fisher