Another missive from Gramps along the pet theme of the last ones …
The memory of the exhumed hamster is buried deep in my mind. I can’t recall the house we were living in. I do remember the funeral in the back garden attended by small tearful child mourners and afterwards, sitting in the dining room watching the recently deceased dead rodent flying through the air in a cloud of soil, followed an excited dog who worried it for a while before sending on a return flight. I rushed out, scolded the dog and deposited the bedraggled corpse in the dustbin. The dog may have been Winnie or Tessa but it was not Winston.
Winston is a dog I remember all too well. Your mother, on a whim, bought a dog to replace Winnie . This was a big mistake, as bitches in my opinion, are much more biddable whereas dogs spell trouble; but for some reason, long forgotten, I was not consulted and arrived home to meet the new male canine member of the family. The puppy stage was fine but when, in time, Winston reached puberty my worst fears were realised. In this period of his short life almost all his waking hours were devoted to escaping from the garden with the intention, presumably, to woo the local bitches. Keeping him indoors was not the solution as Winston devoted his remaining conscious hours causing expensive mayhem. Winston was a dog I could not bond with; would not be my best friend.
Inevitably, due to his total lack of road safety, Winston, on one of his romantic assignations met his end. As I drove home one Friday night I came across the scene of the collision. I accepted the condolences of the traumatised driver and helped gather the scattered pieces of his front bumper before loading the inert body of Winston into the rear of my Astra estate car. Concealing my relief, bordering on joy, behind a doleful mask I broke the news to your mum and told her I would dispose of the body at the local RSPCA on the way to my office the next morning.
On arriving at the RSPCA depot I was surprised to find Winston was as stiff as a board. This turned out to be useful as it was easier to carry a stiff dog under my arm than the floppy body that I had lifted into the car the previous night. I walked down to the entrance door only to find the depot was closed for the weekend. My first thought was to just leave Winston leaning, propped against the door and someone would deal with him in when the reception opened; I could report back to your mother that, with a thin smear of truth, the RSPCA were dealing with the disposal. But, as I turned to leave I found myself under the surveillance of an old lady with a shopping trolley and an equally old man. Under their withering and distasteful stares I decided leaving Winston propped up against the RSPCA reception door was not one of my better ideas. Putting Winston back under my arm I walked back to the car, laid the body back in the car, bade the elderly couple “good morning” and set off to the office with a new plan.
In the compound, outside the joinery workshop at the back of the office, there were a couple of skips used to dispose of the waste material. During the quiet of the Saturday morning this was where I eventually disposed of Winston with the result that I had to tell a complete untruth when I returned home.
On the following Monday I was talking to my boss in his first floor office, and watched mortified, as the skip lorry, having collected the full skip, rumbled slowly passed the window. Winston stood proudly at the front of the skip enacting a canine version of the film Titanic, his ears gently flapping in the breeze. It was a constant problem to the company; local people disposing of their unwanted household goods and appliances in the skips. My boss looked incredulously at the passing skip with its figurehead and muttered “f***ing hell, I thought I’d seen everything but this takes the biscuit!” “A Bonio?” I suggested.
17 Comments on "Guest Post From Gramps – Pet Funerals 1982 Style"
I love gramps! He makes me laugh out loud, great big belly laughs! Will be awaiting news of his own blog
Commented twice. Spelling mistake. I’ve had wine. Need I say more
Your Dad reminds me of my Dad, completely mental. Great post, poor Winston. Thank god for the old dear at the RSPCA, what a sight to turn up to at work if he’d left him there!
Your Dad reminds me of my Dad, completely mental. Great post, poor Winston. Thank god for the old dear at the RSPCA, what a site to turn up to at work if he’d left him there!
Poor Winston, had the picture of him ‘propped up’ against the RSPCA as flat as a pancake.
You should have a competion on here? Come up with best name for Gramps blog??
Winner gets a signed pic..no scrap that, ruin the illusion…winner gets kudos at having named Gramps blog?
Absolutely hilarious. Come on Gramps, sort that blog out!
Alas, poor Winston…
Hilarious! I laughed at the fact that poor Winston was nearly left propped up against the door! Bless him!
I say get him on twitter? Or his own blog?
I have made badges and tshirts Emma if u want one?? (That last sentence is a lie but, only because of my lack of badge maker machine type thing!!)
He has asked for his own blog … we are working on it.
Currently thinking on a name for it.
Every time I see there’s a guest post from Gramps I know I shouldn’t read it at work because I’ll laugh my head off. But I do and I have and I’ve just had to have an awkward conversation with my manager about my internet usage.
However, she is now also bent double laughing at the image of poor Winston, ears a-flapping proudly.
Is there anywhere we can become a fan of Gramps? He’s brilliant!
I love that you have converted your boss to a Gramps reader!
We are working on his own blog. He has a wealth of stories like this … not just about my childhood … his own was pretty eventful!
Oh christ, I am an emotional wreck after reading that! Poor Winston, I feel bad for laughing. But I did. A lot!!!!!!!
That is fantastic. I loved the image of Winston a top of the skip with his ears flapping in the wind. I am however slightly concerned with the sheer amount of pets your family has gotten through…
The Titanic reference just had me howling.
We’ve always had dogs. There was Winnie who I remember vaguely, then Winston, then Tessa who lived for years then in my late teens Poppy who came to her demise a couple of years ago.
… and a plethora of fish and a couple of hamsters.
Now I know where you get your funnies from. What a fab story! Sorry about the dog of course.
I’m wondering what he may write about next … after he’s worked his way through his ‘dead pets’ file.