News From Members

Dominion, Volume 32, Issue 72, 17 December 1938, Page 11 (Supplement)

News From Members

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WK have had quite a lot of clever '' pets. One is a sheet) dog, called Speed. When we hqve pet lambs, and are feeding them on milk out of a bottle, Speed comes along for his drink. He just loves it. Another one of the dogs always shakes hands. Bonny, our old retriever dog, goes for the paper each day and will not give it up until he gets a cake.

One year we had a clever pet lamb, too. Outside the house we have a limestone rock wall, about three feet high. This pet, Monty, just stood back and jumped over the wall into the garden. Dad put a piece of barbwire along, but Monty came just the same, We would rush to put him opt the gate and before we got inside the house Monty wns over the wall again. Once when I was sick, the others were all outside, and I heard Monty come strolling into the kitchen. I called out. and a few seconds later he came in through the open bedroom door and jumped on fo the bed, He continued to jump up and down, enjoying the feel of the wire mattress, I suppose.

At present we have two grey cats whose favourite trick is to walk round my head on the pillow and wake me til) in the early morning.— Peter (16), Havelock North. Brownies. Straight after school all the brownies assemble at our brownie hall. As soon as we get inside we all go to sleep in our six corners. Brown Owl then says, “Tl-wit, ti-woo,” and we all wake up and answer her call. We then make our fairy ring, and the roll is called, and you put your penny in the box. After that we play some games. I am in the Gnome six and I am a sixer. At the end we sing our fairy song, and the National An'them.—Gipsy Queen (10), Feathersston. My Pets, Living in the country, I have quite a lot of pets. Star, my horse, is black with the exception of a white star on his forehead —that is how I came to give him Ills mrme, I have only been thrown off him once. It happened one night when I was riding home from school when, all of a sudden, a gunshot went off nearby Star shied, unseated me and went gallopping madly along the road. I picked myself up, not much worse for the tumble, but very'much surprised. After some manoeuvring I managed to catch him and continued my wiry home.

1 also have a black and white sheep dog called Gypsy, whose tail is eou stantly wagging.

"Wendy," my pet lamb, was brought home to me by my father a few weeks ago. If by any chance we should be busy or forget to give Wendy her bottle at (he usual time, she lies down in front of Hie gate, and keeps up an incessant "baa-ing” till some one gives her it.—Cobweb (14). Christchurch. Two Pals. 1 prefer a dog to a cat for many reasons. Cats are Huffy and nice lo stroke, but tt dog is intelligent. Lassie, my dog, is a brown colour. I have had her .since she was a tiny pup. She was born here, on tlie farm. When she was little J taught hep tricks, Bhe would come bounding along to me as soon as I called or whistled. She was a lovable dog, and seemed to be able to interpret all my moods. If I was thoughtful, she would lie down by my side.' If 1 was full of fun she would come bounding along, jumping up to me.

One day father said we had 100 many dogs, ami so he gave J,assie away to a drover. The drover said she was the best <log he had bad- Someone else thought so, too, for one night Lassie was stolen, and was not found. I was very sad to loose my beautifill dog. She bad grown very fond of me, mid I of her. We used to go for Jong walks together. She could not talk, but she conveyed messages with her large brown eyes and her affectionate pink tongue. I would rather have a dog for a pet than a eat. Cats cannot compare with a dog as a friend. — 0 Mimosa San (16), Wanganui. Catty Tactics! T'he other day. my puss, Tibby, came home from hunting with a bore paw, I looked at it and discovered a small scratch, but I thought it must 'be hurt-

Ing him as he was limping so badly. With warm water I bathed it, and put ointment on the scratch.

“Poor old Tib,’’ I said, .scratching his ear, nd placing him on a soft cushion in the sun, with a large piece of meat to eat. That meat was devoured in one mouthful and I was almost shocked as. I saw him gulp it down. “Tut, tut!” I murmured, “manners, laddie, manners.” Tibby didn’t care a a straw about manners though, and held his sore paw up and mewed pathetically. Some more meat was given to him, nnd that vanished in about half a second.

"PoOr thing, he must be starving,” I thought—although he certainly didn’t look as if toe was starved! When Tibby had satisfied himself that he had eaten enough, he curled up and went to sleep. Half an hour later I went out to him and found him strolling across the verandah. Hurrah, his paw was better, I cheered. But was it? As soon as he saw me he started to limp and held his paw up as if he couldn’t bear to place it. on the ground.” “Poor old fellow—is your paw still bad?” A pathetic screech answered my question, and the paw was lifted still higher. Half an hour later I went out again and he was licking his sore paw gently. “Poor old chap!” T murmured, “Would you like—” I gasped as he took a jeap and bounded round the verandah as he heard someone calling “Puss, puss, puss!—dinner-time!” “You old fraud!”" I roared, throwing the cushion after him. And to think that all the time he was just pretending that his paw was sore!— N.Z. Lass (16), Waipawa.