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Back at trains... In the 1800s there was a whole string of newspaper stories about cats getting from London to Edinburgh or Glasgow (about the longest non-stop runs) by holding onto leading truck axles or similar. Now, if you think that's daft... somewhere in the pile I've got photocopies of learned treatises printed in the "Letters" sections of "The Engineer" and "Engineering"... both cutting edge serious journals of the day... discussing the dynamics, necessary pounds per foot of grip etc. for diferent speeds and axle diameters. At one point my late wife and I had ten adult cats and twelve kittens in our large Edwardian house... kept her entertained and NEVER messed in the house... but an excellent way of sorting out good care workers from idiots. The cats lived on cupboards each side of the kitchen door and would hurtle off the moment any stranger walked in. 22 low flying cats is a pretty good test of a "professionals" ability to deal with the realities of life. I used to tell the checkout girls (who processed the pile of cat food) that I'd TOLD the wife not to buy a lion... some of them really did believe me... still haven't worked out whether a certain young blonde believed me or was winding me up... guess she won... Then again, moving to dogs (to get back to trains)... story I was told years back... [to set the scene Heysham is a small port just below the Lake District on the NW coast and used to have a ferry to/from Belfast in Ulster (as it then definitely was). The station wasn't big but had all facilities including an MPD (Motive Power depot /loco facility) because of the traffic it handled. Crewe was/is one of the major West coast route junctions and once had major works... in fact it was an entirely railway town. Night mail trains were priority over everything except Royal trains and wreck trains going to an incident... delay one more than a couple of times and you could certainly get demoted if not fired. Night mails were Class One and got the most senior drivers and the best locos (usually 4-6-0s)... if they didn't get all Green "sticks" right through anywhere they blew all the way through and out the other side... the whole town knew about it]. Okay so... story goes. A Permanent Way (MoW) gang were getting together at Heysham for a nights track work and George didn't show up. The Ganger , Fred, asked if anyone knew what had happened. Someone thought that George's dog had died. Fred gets John to go round to George's with him. They knock on the door and when George calls them in they go in to find George sat one side of the fireplace, his wife sat the other and the dog dead on the floor between them. Both are crying. Fred and John say all the right things and arrange that they will take the dog away for decent disposal while George gets his wife off to bed and comes in to work so that he doesn't lose any money/get into trouble. Fred and John return toward the P way lobby with the dog in a sack. Passing the MPD George disappears toward the Night Mail loco for a few minutes. George comes comes into work and they all go off for the nights work. About three in the morning they are all having a break, mug of tea, sandwiches, smoke. Everyone is a bit quiet in respect for George's loss. After a bit George muses. "I wonder where the dog is now"? From the back a voice says "If he's running right time he's just past Crewe".
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