Tommy, a true warrior…….

Tommy, a true warrior…….

where's the sheep?

Most homes with children have pets. It’s a fact of life that every child wants a pet, something exciting, fun, to play with, like a dog, you can throw twigs and they bring them back. A true friend to depend on. And who, in turn depends on you. We had a black and white sheepdog when I was very young. But with an obvious lack of sheep on the streets of Burnley, it played instead with kids on the Harold street ‘rec’. Unfortunately the poor animal was out playing one day and got carried away and ‘nipped’ a young boy on the ankle, I assume the inbred instinct to herd sheep does not apply to herding young boys. I don’t think it was a ferocious unprovoked attack, but a bite is a bite, and dad’s reaction was to have the dog put down. Fearing as he did that once a dog has the taste of human flesh every living thing is seen as a potential meal. This philosophy was nothing new. I was watching a BBC children’s program called Blue Peter one day, and the vet on the program said that dogs should be given a blend of milk and eggs to give them protein. The Blue Peter crew had a dog, and it looked very healthy. Dad went ballistic when I asked him if I could do the same for our dog. “Never feed dogs milk or eggs, cows and chickens will never be safe!” How a dog knows that an egg comes from a chicken I have no idea, and if I ever see a dog milking a cow – please shoot me, I must be completely mad! But such was dad’s philosophy, and we lived with it.

With the demise of the sheepdog, we wanted something to replace it, “no more dogs” was decreed, and so be it. So we bought a tortoise, a hard shelled tropical animal used to living in jungles amid lush vegetation, ‘Tommy’ was brought to 134 Accrington road to live on an Axminster wool carpet and cold linoleum.



Blloody hell! Tommy



Tommy had a lot going for it as a pet. It didn’t make any noise, needed little food, just the occasional lettuce leaf, and did not need walking on cold wet nights or early mornings before or after school. As far as exciting, this would not describe keeping a tortoise. Other than retracting their head and legs inside their shells and becoming immobile, not much happens, it would walk slowly across the floor, stopping occasionally and looking around, no doubt for a nice shady banyan tree. This was both a blessing and a curse. Poor Tommy would sleep anywhere, after eating it would stop and sleep, often in the middle of the floor. I lost count the number of times someone came into the living room and kicked the poor thing right across the room, “bloody hell!” was heard often followed by a thud as Tommy was stopped by either the opposite wall or a chair leg.

I have no doubt that the demise of Tommy was a result of multiple concussions, how many times can anything survive being kicked across a room and come to a dead stop. No doubt that is what eventually happened, the ultimate ‘dead stop’.  “Where’s Tommy?” someone would say coming into the room, “bloody hell” and a dull thud as shell hit something. Tommy’s head must have been spinning, wondering what was going on, or maybe Tommy said “bloody hell!” followed by “hang on - here we go again,” before hitting a chair leg or stone wall.



yum yum - lettuce!



Tommy disappeared, one day it was there, the next it was gone, “died” we were told, to be honest there was no gaping hole left in my life, not much changed. Tommy could neither bark nor wag a tail, and definitely lacked the soulful eyes of a dog.

I did see once if it could swim. I once dropped it into a bucket full of water. Blue Peter had done it the week before with turtles, and apparently turtles swam very well, sometimes across oceans. Tommy however sank like a stone, head and feet retracted, not even trying to swim, I simply thought that it was the only turtle that could not swim, ‘lack of practice, must be’! Confusing turtles with tortoises was not good for Tommy. It looked like a round, green oyster. I pulled it out of the bucket, put it down on the Axminster, immediately its legs and head came back out and it moved the fastest I had ever seen it, running under the sofa where it stayed for what seemed like days.

Tommy, one of the quiet heroes of my childhood - RIP