My parents were both born in Garstang and my mother tells of the time when a local youth, Jerome Grayson brought his dog along the street. He was noted for sending his dog after the cats with the command – “cats Rover”. My mother had a cat and was concerned for its safety but her father reassured her that “Rover” would get more than it bargained for. Along came young Mr Grayson with Rover who ran towards the cat. Before it knew what was happening the cat leaped into the air and landed on Rovers head and began scratching at it. Rover ran all the way home along High Street with the cat still on it’s head. Needless to say Rover wouldn’t pass my mother’s house after that. Some time later a rather fancy lady called Mrs Clarkson was coming along with several miniature poodles when the cat decided to do the same thing. She held one of the dogs above her head but the cat ran up her back and along her arm. She threatened to take my grandfather to court for having a dangerous cat but nothing more was heard of it.
My father had a sister, Mary, who died at the age of 12 of pneumonia and, because she had not been baptised she was not allowed to be buried in the Parish Churchyard. My grandfather had to go out late one night and bury her in a field nearby. I don’t think my father ever quite forgave the Church of England for that. I don’t know whether the same thing could happen these days.
All this happened nearly 80 years ago.
Musings from a Church Mouse 