Angus named her Miss Carter after our landlady, whom he did not like. He used to stand on our front steps at night loudly calling our Miss Carter by name, adding: “Come home, you little tramp!”, while the other one, who lived only a few doors down the street, presumably endured acute embarrassment. Other animals joined us. One was Limpopo, a Florida alligator brought to me by my Uncle Geddes, whose fiendish sense of humour as a youth had suffered no diminution with the years. When Limpopo arrived, he was a starving, six-inch weakling, but he grew apace on a diet of hard-boiled eggs, minnows, and tadpoles until, before we left Windsor, he was two feet long and could glutch down a six-inch sunfish in a couple of gulps. Although not an affectionate pet, he never tried to eat my fingers, as he might well have done. When we eventually left Windsor, I was told he could not accompany us. I tried to give him away but found no takers. In the end, I took Limpopo down to the banks of the St.
