Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Aug 18, 2004 11:14:41 GMT 1
This is the first of two true stories about psychic pets and kindly submitted by Maisie. - Al.
The first story takes place sixty four years ago during the London Blitz...
Blue
My father used to be a stevedore and he came home one night in May of 1940 with a beautiful blue Persian kitten that he had found abandoned in the hold of the ship.
They used to keep cats aboard to keep rats down but where or how this kitten had come from my father never knew. It grew into a beautiful long haired blue Persian cat.
My mother had an instant bonding with that kitten and Blue as we named him was my mothers shadow.
When the blitz started and well before the siren wailed out its warning he used to stand clawing at the side of the door. It gave us time to get our belongings together and get down the Anderson shelter. Blue always knew when a raid was to start because apart from clawing at the door he would sit and yowl three times as though he was telling us to get into the shelter. It was uncanny how he was always right.
Blue had been hit by shrapnel about three times but my mother nursed him back to life each time and she always shared her food with him although we were rationed.
As time went on we were evacuated to a town in the Midlands.
Blue had to stay behind with my father and sister until we got a place of our own in this new town that we had gone to live in for safety. My mother wept buckets at having to leave Blue behind.
When we did finally get a house my father brought Blue to us.
It was then that my father said that Blue had saved his and my sisters life.
Blue had gave his usual warning signal and Dad was ignoring him and was not going to go down the shelter that night but Blue had other ideas and kept getting in my fathers way until he picked him up and took him into the shelter.
Anderson shelters were built in six foot holes that were dug out in the back garden. By this time the raid was at its zenith and a direct hit bombed what was left of our house and it fell on to the Anderson shelter just as my father was down handing Blue over to my sister for safe keeping. Blue must have known that something was going to happen. That was why he kept getting under my fathers feet. They were buried alive and it was Blue who found a small hole in the shelter wall where air filtered through.
Luckily the roof stopped intact although they could not get out because the entrance had had full force of the falling masonry.
My father had dug at the small air hole to make it bigger and somehow Blue found his way through it over all the bricks and mortar that lay on top of the Anderson shelter and his continuous meowing and clawing at the debris finally brought the firemen to the spot where dad and my sister were still trapped.
They had been in there nearly 48 hours. Incredible but true.
They survived on that small pocket of air and the bit of rations plus candles that were always ready for any emergencies.
We never knew anything about this until Blue was in my mothers arms. We we SO proud of him and he was over the moon to be back with his beloved mistress, my mother.
Our joy lasted for two weeks because the neighbour that we lived against was anti cat and he put poison down that Blue licked and he died in agony in my mother's arms.
She fought for two days and nights to try and get him better.
So two weeks after surviving all the horrors of the blitz and saving two lives our lovely cat died a horrible death.
Unfortunately in those days we could do nothing about it because the laws were not the same then as they are now. I still weep about it now. To think he had gone all through that to die the way he did.
That same person who put the poison down had both his legs amputated some years later. I often wondered if it was God who had paid that person back for what he did to Blue.
I must add here that many animals were put to sleep when the war started.
My mother would not let Blue be put to sleep.
© Maisie Walker
The first story takes place sixty four years ago during the London Blitz...
Blue
My father used to be a stevedore and he came home one night in May of 1940 with a beautiful blue Persian kitten that he had found abandoned in the hold of the ship.
They used to keep cats aboard to keep rats down but where or how this kitten had come from my father never knew. It grew into a beautiful long haired blue Persian cat.
My mother had an instant bonding with that kitten and Blue as we named him was my mothers shadow.
When the blitz started and well before the siren wailed out its warning he used to stand clawing at the side of the door. It gave us time to get our belongings together and get down the Anderson shelter. Blue always knew when a raid was to start because apart from clawing at the door he would sit and yowl three times as though he was telling us to get into the shelter. It was uncanny how he was always right.
Blue had been hit by shrapnel about three times but my mother nursed him back to life each time and she always shared her food with him although we were rationed.
As time went on we were evacuated to a town in the Midlands.
Blue had to stay behind with my father and sister until we got a place of our own in this new town that we had gone to live in for safety. My mother wept buckets at having to leave Blue behind.
When we did finally get a house my father brought Blue to us.
It was then that my father said that Blue had saved his and my sisters life.
Blue had gave his usual warning signal and Dad was ignoring him and was not going to go down the shelter that night but Blue had other ideas and kept getting in my fathers way until he picked him up and took him into the shelter.
Anderson shelters were built in six foot holes that were dug out in the back garden. By this time the raid was at its zenith and a direct hit bombed what was left of our house and it fell on to the Anderson shelter just as my father was down handing Blue over to my sister for safe keeping. Blue must have known that something was going to happen. That was why he kept getting under my fathers feet. They were buried alive and it was Blue who found a small hole in the shelter wall where air filtered through.
Luckily the roof stopped intact although they could not get out because the entrance had had full force of the falling masonry.
My father had dug at the small air hole to make it bigger and somehow Blue found his way through it over all the bricks and mortar that lay on top of the Anderson shelter and his continuous meowing and clawing at the debris finally brought the firemen to the spot where dad and my sister were still trapped.
They had been in there nearly 48 hours. Incredible but true.
They survived on that small pocket of air and the bit of rations plus candles that were always ready for any emergencies.
We never knew anything about this until Blue was in my mothers arms. We we SO proud of him and he was over the moon to be back with his beloved mistress, my mother.
Our joy lasted for two weeks because the neighbour that we lived against was anti cat and he put poison down that Blue licked and he died in agony in my mother's arms.
She fought for two days and nights to try and get him better.
So two weeks after surviving all the horrors of the blitz and saving two lives our lovely cat died a horrible death.
Unfortunately in those days we could do nothing about it because the laws were not the same then as they are now. I still weep about it now. To think he had gone all through that to die the way he did.
That same person who put the poison down had both his legs amputated some years later. I often wondered if it was God who had paid that person back for what he did to Blue.
I must add here that many animals were put to sleep when the war started.
My mother would not let Blue be put to sleep.
© Maisie Walker