Miscellaneous

Jake, Orinoco and Castrol
(nothing to do with cymbidiums)

Jako Patako

(died 12:15 a.m. 10^th. June 2012 aged about five months)

You came to us at perfect time with no fur and eyes still closed

You weighed a paltry sixty grams, without your shoes and clothes.

You lived in Tracey’s cleavage and under a warm light at night

You’d suckle a syringe and tube, till you learnt to lap and bite.

To keep you clean and healthy Mum tells you when to pee and poo

Tracey was your nursemaid so night and day she tended you.

But as you did get bigger you could tuck yourself up warm

Inside your beanie, in your box, safe from the chill of dawn.

You were Tracey’s darling, you knew she was your real mum

Whenever there was doubt around, t’was to her you’d always run.

You would sit upon her shoulder and watch the world go by

Safe from feet and cats and things from your vantage point up high.

You’d snuggle in her jumper as she went about her chores

Your soft nose drawing circles but when startled you’d use claws!

Safe and warm beside her there you would quietly dose

Then you’d climb up to her neck line and softly kiss her with your nose.

You’d lie inside my hoodie as I typed or surfed the net

Or run and play upon my lap until too cold you’d get.

You’d let me stroke your tummy, your arms spread without fear

You liked to chew my thumbnail and the hairs around my ears.

Each day you did get braver and would scamper on your own

Across the floor to find someone, when you were left alone.

You’d watch our every move with care when food was being prepared

And would explore the bench and bowls, for things of interest there.

You shared our room and our warm bed before we went to sleep

We’d hear you hiss, “Please let me back.” When you were put to bed.

Night was your time, we’d hear you climb the branches and the grill

And nibble nuts and chewy things until you’d got your fill.

When called you’d poke your pink nose out from in your nice warm den

But time was of no object so you think a while and then

You’d slowly climb on to the floor and move to the door with care

To climb on to whoever was waiting for you there.

One day there was a special time when you chose to follow me

When I got up and walked away you ran to the end of the settee.

The floor was far for you to cross so you pleaded with your eyes

I felt a bond between us then that was a magical surprise.

It made me think about you lots of times when at my work

You’d bring a smile upon my face a special little quirk.

You made me think of Tracey and how great she is for us

Together we were with her, travelling on a special bus.

Jake my boy you were not just, a pet to have for fun

To me you were so special, you were like our new born son.

I won’t be here forever while sweet Tracey will live on

I thought you would be with her, long after I was gone.

You’d choose your food quite carefully, drinking Milo from a cup.

Bowls were for cats and animals but not for you to sup!

You’d sit between us on the couch eating with your hands so neat

You’d go for peas and carrots first then sample other treats.

That was perhaps our downfall. Was it something that you ate?

That made you get convulsions and shake and shake and shake.

It could have been the lemon fish with mercury perhaps

Though you only took a nibble it sprung its lethal trap.

You trusted us completely but we knew not what to do

We could only sit and comfort you and pray that you’d come through.

For two hours you fought the agony and you were very brave

Your little body tortured as the pain it came in waves.

Your pain was so intensive that you thrashed about the place

Your heart was racing oh so fast and your breaths were rapid paced.

We held you and we cuddled you and tried to ease the pain

We murmured to you softly, “Please get well again.”

Briefly you stopped breathing and we thought that you were gone

But with a gentle kiss of life you bravely soldiered on.

Your body was too young and small and soon after you did pass

Within my hands your heart did stop and you took your final gasp.

You closed your mouth, your eyes went dull, you lay as if asleep

The pain was gone, serene and small, you drifted in the deep.

If there’s no pain there was no love the whole world knows that’s true

For us the pain is daunting, our love is so strong for you.

You suffered and you clung to life as hard as you could try

The memories will linger long, of your final desperate cry.

I held you close and cuddled you inside our bed so warm

I was hoping for a miracle as I waited for the dawn.

But though you stayed so warm and soft the life from you was gone

So young, so soft, so trusting, whatever had gone wrong?

We buried you inside your box with your beanie wrapped round tight

Where you would go for safety and to sleep throughout the night.

You lie inside a shallow grave near trees that reach up high

"We should have been your proper home," they whisper and they sigh.

And spare a tear for Tracey as you were her pride and joy

She tended and she loved you, you were her special boy.

And just when you were turning to all fun and not much work

You were snatched away beneath her, that makes her really hurt.

Your eyes, your ears, your round pink nose and fur so soft to touch

Everything about you made us love you oh so much.

You were a special person even though you were so young

Your endearing personality was full of trust and warmth and fun.

We think of you, we pine for you and tears they freely flow

Jake, you have gone forever and our grief you’ll never know.

You were the light you were the life a treasure through and through

Our hearts and souls are richer from joy of knowing you.

RIP Jake.

Jake was an Australian brush-tailed possum.

Net photos of brush-tailed possums:
http://www.google.co.nz/search?q=australian+brush+tailed+possum&hl=en&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=phQIUJjbKcHKmQXwu922Aw&sqi=2&ved=0CF8QsAQ&biw=1366&bih=667

                         Hairy Noco

I am a little possum, “Orinoco” is my name.

And no I’m not a womble, though my name is just the same.

Because I have no hair at all my name for now must be

“Ori-no-clothes” though I must confess, that is a little twee.

Soon I will be all furry so “Hairy Noco” they will snort

But in time I’ll be just be known as “Noco” for short.

Castrol and Family

“Hello”, my name is Castrol.

A strange name for a Duck.

But that’s what Richard called me

And regretably it stuck.

At least it is not Mudguts

Which is what he called a hen.

But he’s always a bit zaney

And he thought it funny then.

I am an Indian Runner

But I waddle more than run.

I swim a lot but do not fly

Though I know that would be fun.

I tried it once when I was young

And the wind was blowing strong.

I flapped and I got airborne

But not for very long.

My father’s name is Marmalade

But folks just call him Runner.

He’s tall and white with orange feet

He looks a real stunner.

My mother is named Mrs. Black

Because she’s black as black can be.

She seems like she’s a grumpy duck

But her good nature you can’t see.

She’s normally quite retiring

And appears to be remote.

But when she mutters out instructions

Everyone takes note.

She knows about the perils

Of dogs and cats and stoats

And is completely fearless

If her ducklings are approached.

I have an older sister,

Who looks a lot like me.

She’s lucky, she’s called Mrs. White

As she could be Frib-dee-dee.

I have three ducklings of my own

Whose calling cannot fail.

They do not look a lot like me

But that’s a different Tale.

I started off with six eggs

But one went missing while I slept

Another two went rotten

So three was what was left.

Their names I must confess

Are the biggest mystery by far

As Richard went and called them

Tri and Fek and Tah.

That brings me back to my name

Which is not as strange as it appears.

It comes from my special circumstance

Which could have led to tears.

Mrs. Black abandoned me

Just before I was due to hatch

As all the other eggs she’d laid

Went rotten in that batch.

It was coming close to winter

And the days were wet and cold.

So I was hatched inside the house

In a warm box, I’ve been told.

When too big for the box and light

A large cage became my lair.

Two Chinese quail were neighbours

A most unusual pair.

Mr. Gray was oh so timid

Anastasia ran that shop.

I don’t think they had read the book

Or if so, they’d lost the plot!

Richard rises early

To surf the internet.

So for warmth and company

Around his neck I’d get.

I’d stretch myself out in his hood

With my tummy on his skin

My legs spread-eagled on one side

And my beek tucked snuggly in.

If he was being tardy

And did not get me in a trice.

I made my very high pitched squeal

Which he did not find quite nice.

If you’ve heard a squeaky bearing

Then I sounded just the same.

“You need a damn good oil”, he’d say

So “Castrol” became my name.