Bonzo's War Read Online Free PDF Page B

themselves necessaries in order to ensure that their dogsshould breathe the free air of England. Seldom have we of the League derived more pleasure from aiding downcast dog-lovers than we have in extending a helping hand to these victims of racial and religious persecution.
    There were also feline refugees from Nazism.
The Cat
, a little later in the drama, highlighted the case of ‘Mischi’ – ‘a really lovely striped tabby with large intelligent eyes and long, graceful lines. She has a large vocabulary in two languages, one of them Czechoslovakian, although she is an “England” cat, and instantly replies to certain words of interest, such as “meat”, etc.’
    Mischi, now living in Slough, was pregnant. Her owner was looking for a good home for ‘a son of this beautiful and intelligent cat’. Give him to me!
    As the German Army marched into the capital of Mischi’s homeland, Prague, on 16 March, the national mood darkened. Sir John Anderson, who had entered the Cabinet as Lord Privy Seal in October 1938, intensified defensive preparations. Maybe this time the nation’s pets would get some proper consideration.
    Animal lovers could reflect meanwhile that as Europe was rushing towards the precipice, at the nation’s helm was someone who understood the natural world. The Prime Minister, it was noted, was a keen birdwatcher. ‘His morning bird walk in St James’s Park accompanied by his wife must be of considerable value in providing physical and mental refreshment before facing the day’s duties with the Cabinet,’ reported
Animals and Zoo Magazine
.
    Under the attention-grabbing headline ‘Neville Chamberlain Moth Hunter’, the magazine recorded the PM finding a wood leopard moth in ‘the venerable garden of Number 10’.
    â€˜It is certainly no small encouragement to natural historyin these difficult times that the Prime Minister has found time to collect moths as well as to watch birds and fish,’ said its correspondent.
    But after Prague, war really did seem inevitable. In early April, Whitehall officials met to discuss what to do with domestic pets in case of war – but not yet the larger animals. ‘Cattle and sheep present little problem in the Metropolitan Police area,’ it was noted at a meeting of the provisional committee set up to examine what was now being called an ‘ARP for Animals Service’. The Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Philip Game, got directly involved.
    Just what it was supposed to do would depend on whether the Government ordered ‘the compulsory slaughter of all animals not of economic value’ according to an internal discussion paper (the proposal is marked ‘suggest delete’ in the margin). That meant the mass destruction of pets.
    The British Bee-Keepers Association meanwhile complained that no one in authority was considering the position of bees, should war break out. The evacuation of hives from the suburbs of larger cities should be considered, ‘because in an air raid, a badly disrupted apiary could increase panic and hinder rescue,’ it was noted in the journal
Bee Craft
. That was not to be the last word on bees.
    The RSPCA provided a census of the imperial capital’s non-human population. ‘Besides the 40,000 working horses in the metropolis there were also 18,000 pigs, 9,000 sheep, 6,000 head of cattle, 400,000 dogs, and approximately 1,500,000 cats,’ announced Sir Robert Gower at a conference in May. ‘The public looks to the Society to see that this vast army of animals has adequate protection.’
    Many of those working horses were employed by railway companies, breweries, dairies and borough councils, but many more were the animals of the poor,living in tumbledown backyard stables in the sort of conditions that Maria Dickin had found so distressing, twenty years before. If cities were evacuated or bombed, how should