On this Father’s Day it would be strange if I didn’t think of my father and share some memories of him.
My father was an animal lover. He loved dogs and horses and cats, probably in that order. Over his lifetime he had many dogs, and a few cats, I’m not sure about horses. I know he rode in his younger days, but I’m not sure if he owned any. When I was sorting through all the family photos I inherited, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of photos of animals – mostly dogs.
For my father animals always came first. If it was a choice between animals and humans, he always chose the animal. It was more difficult if it was a choice between an animal and another animal, but I believe he would always choose dogs above any other.
My father was also a person who thrived on routine. He always woke up at around the same time every morning, even when retired, and had a specific routine to get ready for the day. Before anything else he would go to the kitchen, open the fridge and take out two eggs which he would carefully place on the bench next to the stove. Then he would get dressed, make his bed and put the coffee on the stove – although later in life he started the day with tea. Once he was ready he would boil the water for his eggs and put a bread roll on his plate. The eggs would be carefully lowered into the boiling water for exactly three minutes. He liked them runny, so runny that I couldn’t bear to watch him eat them.
At the same time as my father would set the table for breakfast, he would also place two dog biscuits next to his plate. While he ate, his dog of the moment would lie next to his chair waiting patiently for each of the biscuits, one given before my father began to eat, and one when he finished. This routine was also played out at dinner time.
I cannot remember a time when we didn’t have pets. Actually I cannot remember a time when we didn’t have dogs. We also had cats but not as many. After my mother died, I can only remember my father having dogs.
However, there were the birds. Not long after moving into the house where he would live for around four decades, my father built a bird bath on the edge of the driveway which ran alongside the house. He built it under a tree which was near the fence line – a tree which his neighbour was not fond of as it dropped leaves on their side of the fence. Every day my father would take bird seed and sprinkle a couple of handfuls near the bird bath. Unfortunately the majority of birds to take advantage of this were pigeons, and they created an awful mess. But my father loved to feed the birds and watch them enjoying the water, especially in the heat of summer.
