Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'What are you doing, Daddy?' Maurice asked, not unreasonably under the circumstances.
'Playing,' I said, 'just… just playing.' There was an uncomfortable silence while they all
looked at me and the kittens, none of which it seemed were even slightly injured, curled
around their legs and purred. 'I'll go and see if there's anything that needs doing outside,' I
muttered and scurried off.
That incident was used as the final reason why the cats couldn't possibly be re-homed. Some
flim-flam about trauma was offered, but only half-heartedly and no-one was buying it. So, the
decision having finally been made, rather dubiously to my mind, I came into my own with a
'to-do' list: bowls, proper beds and collars were needed, I said, let's get these cats organised.
The pet shop is actually in a garden centre and is somewhere I usually try and avoid, because
if Natalie has an obsession with collecting animals it is matched only by her addiction to
gardening. There have been times when I have spent so long in garden centres I have seen
plants grow, flower and die before we have made it to the checkout. I once, and I'm not mak-
ing this up, collapsed in a garden centre in England, due to some longstanding inner ear bal-
ance problem, and Natalie carried on shopping while we waited for the ambulance. The com-
bination of garden centre and pet shop is therefore potentially quite a dangerous one.
We got off relatively lightly in the plant section, with just a few lavenders finding their way
into the trolley while I was off choosing collars and practising the word 'no' in preparation for
the pet department.
'Daddy, can we get a mouse?'
'No.'
'Daddy, can we have a parakeet?'
'No.'
'Daddy, can we…?'
'No.'
'Daddy?'
'No.'
The chinchilla was the one that did it for me. A sad little South American fur ball cruelly
out of place in a cage in Central France, with its big doe eyes and depressed manner. I have
to admit it was very tempting to rescue it, to give it some kind of life.
'Daddy, can we have a chinchilla?'
'Er…'
'Yay! Mummy! Daddy said we could have a chinchilla!'
I was shaken from my temporary reverie. 'What? No I didn't! We don't know anything about
chinchillas. No way! Have you seen
Gremlins
? Those things will ruin the sofa!'
Then it started - the wailing and moaning and gnashing of child teeth; even the chinchilla
had a look on his face which suggested he'd probably be better off staying put. I'm proud of
the fact that my children love animals so much - it is a civilising influence - but keeping a
