Naughty Pets Corner

Having had the hedgehog for over six months, we thought we have experienced all the varieties of naughtiness he was capable of, but (as we always find when we think an animal has been as naughty as it can) we were wrong. We were due to go down to Brighton for the weekend to see our scarily responsible doctor friends and as usual, the getting up and getting going stage of the day was taking a bit longer than expected. So while the Boy Wonder was in the shower I went down to clean out the hedgehog so he would smell as fragrant as possible on our return - I took out the heating pad, towel and bowl to wash and it was only once they were out that I realised that there was a suspiciously small array of places where he could still be. After a little frantic scrabbling through poo covered newspaper and some curious thoughts about how a hedgehog could accidentally shrink down to a size which could still be sheltering in the box, I was sure he was officially missing. I shouted up to the Boy Wonder who was a little confused as to why I was shrieking up the stairs and went back to being frantic around the kitchen, searching under the gas fire, down the side of the dishwasher and contemplating whether he could have got into the pan cupboard and down the gap between the kitchen and the cellar. I searched under the sofas and looked into every crack and crevice that could house a spiky little escapologist. I even considered the chance that he may have been stolen, imagining some vigilante looking through the window, misunderstanding the situation and 'liberating' him. Fortunately the Boy Wonder came down and, with his usual calm, collected approach to things, started rooting around under the furniture with the broom handle. A few seconds later he started laughing as his poking revealed that Hoggle was curled up inside an old slipper of his which has been under the dresser for at least a couple of years. Somehow he had managed to get out of his box (didn't know that was an option - he'd never done it before!) and make the heroic two meter journey to under the dresser where he clearly felt some synergy with the Boy Wonder's stinky slipper and decided to make it into a sleeping bag. I was worried that he was trapped due to the direction of his spines, but after I spent a careful five minutes cutting the back of the slipper open and peeling him out, he spent the following five minutes snuggling himself back in there like a big grey banana. This little routine meant that not only did we have the best excuse for being late ever ('Sorry we're going to be late - the hedgehog's escaped'), but also the fun of clearing everything off the dresser which was almost entirely offset by the cutest pictures even taken of a really dusty floor.

Naughty Pets - Mogbad

I loved Mogbad very much, so much so that I wrote a song about my love for him to convince the Boy Wonder to let us foster him which went thus (to the tune of 'A Very Good Year' by Frank Sinatra): When I was 27, I met a very nice cat A very nice cat, who was very sad His name was Mogbad However, his appeal did not extend to impressive displays of intellect, resulting in the following rules being written in an attempt to 'train' him: * Dribbling may be a sign of your pleasure, but please don't feel the need to share your joy with the contents of my bag * Just because you fell off the sofa and we laughed does not mean you have the right to anchor yourself to my leg to save future embarrasment. In fact, if you fall asleep in an odd position, it is rarely acceptable to use my skin to grapple your way back to safety. * Although you are funny when you have catnip, jumping on top of the fridge and eating an entire box while I am at work will probably make you feel queasy and paranoid. Do not inflict your come-down on me by alternately hiding in the waste paper bin and attacking used tissues and then lolling around in doorways staring at cupboards. * If the stairs have always baffled you, but you have taken the plunge and decided to see what's up there, don't try to hide your adventuring spirit by shooting under the bed when you're rumbled and then sneezing in the dust for 20 minutes before emerging with fluff in your whiskers. *I asked the vet and he said there is NO reason for you to be licking soot from the fireplace. I did tell him that I thought you were super intelligent and capable of identifying minerals which were lacking in your diet, but, as you may you recall, he laughed and said he thought you were just a bit stupid. Because it was during my spirited defence of your intelligence that you fell out of the scales and off the examining table, I decided not to pursue the matter, but I don't think I am to blame for his opinion of you. *Also, the fire in the grate today is about as hot as it was yesterday when you burnt your nose on it. It will be that hot again tomorrow, and every day from then on until the weather is warmer, whilst the available sympathy levels will diminish every time you do it. Please don't be offended if we laugh at you. *I know you're a bit old a creaky, so don't be surprised if I am not impressed that you found a dead mouse and brought it home - I am well aware that you are too slow, stupid and lazy to catch anything which was alive, and so whilst you are welcome to do whatever you want to it outside, stop bringing it through the catflap every half an hour in the hope that I will be moved to raptures by your achievement. * The cats next door can get back out of the shed via the hole in the back panel, whereas you seem unable to navigate it, so it might be best if you didn't follow them in there. However it was sweet watching them trying to 'explain' to you how to get out while you sat there looking confused and crying. * If you play that game where you jump in and out of the box, it will eventually flip up and trap you underneath. If urgent rescue is such a priority this time, you shouldn't have just fallen asleep under there last time as it gave us the impression you weren't that bothered. * This is the most important one, so pay attention: I know that I wanted you to stop weeing in that plant, but I do NOT remember endorsing the use of the 8 way plug extension next to it as a suitable alternative. Continued weeing on it will have one of two outcomes a) you will get electrocuted and I will come home to find a dead moggy covered in wee behind the TV b) I will get a call from the fire brigade telling me that they have had to put my house out and curiously the point of the fire's origin seems to be a dead moggy covered in wee behind the TV. Neither of these scenarios appeal to me, so please use the cat flap you walked past to access more suitable territories for relieving yourself.

Naughty Pets - Rabbits

The rabbits were definitely my idea - I wanted rabbits when I was a kid, but we always had cats, and following a particularly unfortunate spell with a school guinea pig called Hellraiser, pets of the small furry variety were discouraged from the house. So when we bought the house and got our hanky-sized garden, the Boy Wonder carpented (that may not be a word, but he did carpentry, so it should be) me a massive rabbit hutch (I can get into the top half, should I feel the need) and we toddled off to the local animal rescue centre and adopted two rabbits, sisters, one of whom has a massive afro. I was very excited so I learned as much as I could and bought them everything I thought they would need. They needed to be warm and have somewhere cosy to sleep, so I bought them one of those furry animal igloos to snuggle up in. They did look very cute when they sat in it, and fortunately I made the most of it because it wasn't long before their lovely fluffy bed was a pile of dirty, trodden down fabric scraps in their hutch. So I bought them another one, and that one lasted even less time. Then we had snow, and I walked home from the station in the snow (it was only a mile, but still!) worried that they would be too chilly in the garden, only to find that they had dragged the old top I had given them to keep warm down into the run where they had trampled it into the mud, and were happily sitting in the snow looking as though butter wouldn't melt in their tiny naughty mouths. So I gave up trying to make them warm and comfy and let them get on with their own agenda, which worked well because they showed little to no interest in me, preferring to enjoy their own company rather than come into the house where they would slide around on the floor boards and try to eat inappropriate things. Then they started digging. At first it was a hole in the corner of the run - I first noticed it as they chose to spread the soil that they had excavated all around the run, on top of the lovely grass with which we had lovingly provided them. But we stuck a brick down the hole, tried to scoop up as much soil as possible and put wire mesh underneath the end of the run. So they dug at the other end of the run, we filled in the hole and put more mesh down. They they dug in the 6 inch gap that I had not meshed because I felt mean, and we left them to it as they had already killed all the grass in the run and we had run out of bricks. Then one day the Boy Wonder went out into the garden and fell down a rabbit hole - they had dug a tunnel out of the run, round the front of the hutch and down the side. The tunnel didn't surface - they aren't trying to escape - until the Boy Wonder's whole foot disappeared into it. So we stuck a new-found brick down the hole and shook our heads at their persistence. The next day, the rabbits were sitting in the garden when the Boy Wonder went to leave for work, and he and our lovely next door neighbour had to shoo them back into their hutch. So we put a massive piece of concrete over the hole and since then they have spent most of their time in the sizable underground lair that they have constructed. It must be quite well appointed as every treat, toy and piece of hutch furniture I have ever given them has disappeared - there are currently about 4 feeding bowls, two wooden panels held together with wire designed to be used as a hidey-hole, several miscellaneous chew toys and a nifty little ball with holes in it that could be filled with treats which would then fall out when they pushed it around, all of which are underground in the lair. They would rather chew the wood that their very home is made from than any of the expensive, purpose-made items which I have bought them over the years, and although it took a while, I have now given up spending any money on things for them beyond food and bedding and trips to the pet shop often spark an internal battle between the part of me that still thinks they're misunderstood and the part of me that knows that anything I buy them will end up covered in mud, abandoned in a part of the lair they don't really use that much - maybe the utility room, or some other such decadent extension that they have down there. I assume that they are plotting evil, because plans for good could easily have been formulated from the comfort of their lovely fluffy bun-igloo and there is something about an underground lair which lends itself to the darker arts of planning to take over the world or plotting the downfall of a specific nemesis. That and doing what nature tells them to do by going underground and growing an unholy amount of fur over the winter. They know when the door opens that it's often feeding time, and will scuttle up to the top hutch for a snack as soon as I come out, but the rest of the time they remain resolutely in the Bun Cave, planning. They also, possibly in cahoots with the fish, spend a fair amount of time assuming positions that are strangely reminiscent of what a dead rabbit would look like. They have no qualms about arranging themselves in positions which simply cannot be comfortable, with their legs at odd angles and their heads lolling, only to leap into action as soon as I rush out in a panic, because by then they know I'll be so glad they're alive, I will spend hours hunting around for dandelion leaves and fresh grass to feed them. The more I think about it, the more likely it seems that our house is on some kind of ley-line which mostly affects animals in the vicinity, compelling them to undertake wildly complex and dangerous activities in the hope that their reign of terror will eventually lead to world domination. However the Boy Wonder insists that they just exhibit similar tendencies towards bloody-mindedness, willful disobedience and defiant naughtiness as I do, so maybe it's more a case of pets being like their owners.

Naughty Pets - Fish

There is either something about me or we are just really unlucky to have such badly behaved animals in our lives. Since the addition of the hedgehog, the Boy Wonder and I are responsible for a total of 6 animals - 3 fish, 2 rabbits and the aforementioned hedgehog. Technically, these are all my 'pets' (a hedgehog isn't really a pet, but as we will ultimately end up looking after him for 6 months, he counts) but the Boy Wonder does some of the cleaning and feeding work as well, though he lays the blame for their naughtiness squarely at my door. I would previously have argued that fish cannot be naughty, or that rabbits must surely have a limited ability to perform acts of evil, but now I know better. So, to catalogue the trail of destruction that tank-living fish can wreak: 1. Upsetting Mental Health/Spatial Awareness problems All the fish I have had since I went tropical 8 years ago (courtesy of the Boy Wonder - he is not entirely without blame!) have had a suicidal misunderstanding of the limits of their environment - they have jumped out of the tank into laundry baskets, onto the floor and the ancient Silver and Dollar who currently reside in my tank are notorious for headbutting the lid of the tank when excited about their dinner. 2. Pretending to be dead Ronnie, the 8 year old plecostomus who has moved house with us three times and refused to leave the tank each time necessitating vastly complicated tank moving scenes where being able to have removed all the water would really have helped, regularly pretends to be dead. He is quite shy, and as such is quite sensitive to any noise or movement in the room, which normally results in him shooting under a log to hide. However, when the house is quiet, he arranges himself in a variety of unhealthy poses, ranging from the subtlety of sideways drifting to make me think there's a problem with his swim bladder to full on lying belly up on the surface of the water in an astonishingly good impression of a completely dead fish. 3. Ungrateful destruction of gifts When I first got the fish tank I decorated it with lovely fresh plants and within a week of having fish in there, they had eaten them all. I bought more, they ate them, and so now we have a tank full of delightful/garish plastic plants which they tolerate. I think their ingratitude was best manifested when I bought them toy jellyfish - they were lovely little plastic bulb-shaped items which floated in the tank suspended from fishing line attached to a rock at the bottom. I put them in the tank one evening and by the next morning they were floating listlessly around the bottom of the tank with their fishing line caught up in the plastic plants, their anchor rocks failing to blend with the existing gravel. So, that's how fish can be naughty and I haven't even started on the others yet...