The Bramwell Zoo

Over the years, the Bramwell family has had quite the menagerie. I don't know many others who grew up surrounded by such a wide variety of animals.

There was Squawk the magpie who imitated the telephone so well, visitors were led to believe we had phones all over the farm. He would sunbathe on his back on the lawn, and curl up with the cats in the evening. Rocky was our next magpie. Mum, to this day, takes great joy in telling people about the time Rocky followed me to my new primary school after we moved off the farm, and how I pretended not to know him even though he was sitting on the back of my chair. Mum eventually answered a plea over the local radio station.

Steve was a farm dog who went blind. Fortunately Steve had Quackers the duck who became his 'guide-duck' and led him everywhere he went. Steve is not to be confused with Sam, the Labrador. Sam ate the lounge suite one rainy night he was allowed to stay inside. Sam was conceived in a police cell, but that and the letter to the Police Commissioner concerning that act is a whole 'nother story.

My sister Nicki once had a total of 16 guinea pigs at one time; she also had a male basset hound called Kimberley; I had a rat called Richard (named after my boss at the time) who had a penchant for eating my clothing and wandering off for days; and even now Mum and Dad have a pair of ducks who every year take their ducklings for their first swim, in our pool. Mum rigs up a complicated ramp of corrugated iron to ensure they can waddle their way out again.

But apart from the seasonal visitors, the zoo is now down to one full-time resident. Not counting Mum and Dad of course.

Lunar Module spent his early years with Chris, but when she moved to the city, Lunar took up residence at the Bramwell ranch. He now lords over the plains, just as his Siberian ancestors once did. Or so Chris tries to tell us.

Should you ever meet Lunar, don't pick him up. You'd be brave to pat him for prolonged periods; and don't whatever you do, scratch his tummy. Especially when he assumes what is well-known at the ranch as his 'gin trap position'.

When myself or Chris are in residence, Lunar likes to sleep on our beds. He will jump in the window at night time and stay until he decides he's hungry. Then he sets about waking you up. Over the years he has mastered various techniques of doing this including: repeatedly batting the dresser handles; slowly shredding your favourite Japanese paper balloon puffer fish; or spilling the odd bedside glass of water if you were really sleeping heavily.

Lunar spends a lot of his time hanging out in and under the bus now. Whenever Mum and Dad go away in the bus, they leave him to be fed by some poor soul - quite possibly my long suffering auntie who, you could say, doesn't see eye-to-eye with Lunar (he has drawn blood numerous times). I just hope she can now laugh about the night Lunar sat in the doorway of her bedroom, not allowing her to pass to go to sleep.

On Mum and Dad's return, Lunar will give them a fierce bat around the ankles to tell them that he didn't appreciate their absence. Or the company.