Bonzo's War by Clare Campbell

destroyed tomorrow morning,’ said one. It was heartbreaking.
    The Ministry of Home Security hated this freelance initiative. A NARPAC ‘representative’ evidently turned up at Animal Defence House the next day and insisted that all such appeals ‘go out in its name’. The Duchess of Hamilton pointed out huffily that she had not even been asked to be represented on the Committee. Relations would not improve.
    â€˜Is there a pet in the house?’ so the
Daily Mirror
’s Susan Day asked brightly on 28 August. She advised readers to ‘make your plans for their comfort and safety now’, but rather than follow the Government’s soothingly lethal guidance, her humane feature article argued strongly against doing anything with immediate fatal intent. She recognized the acute dilemma faced by pet owners, asking perceptively: ‘Is it that perhaps we feel a little guilty aboutour dumb friends that they should have to suffer for the horrors made by man?’
    Yes, it was true that ‘you cannot take them into public shelters,’ she said. But there was plenty to think about first. ‘If you live in an evacuable area, send them at once to friends who are outside the danger area,’ she advised. ‘The ODFL and NCDL have lists of people who are willing to accept pets and motor car owners who can assist.’ If only it were that straightforward.
    â€˜Putting your pets to sleep is a very tragic decision. Only do not take it before it is absolutely necessary,’ insisted Miss Day. ‘If there should be no war you would feel terribly upset afterwards to think that you had parted with your little friend for no purpose.’
    In London, newsmen watched the frantic comings and goings in Whitehall. A Chow dog was seen wandering unattended on the Duke of York Steps near the German Embassy. ‘A passer-by gave him a facetious Heil Hitler! salute,’ so it was reported. ‘The dog wheezed and went to sleep.’
    It was recognized as the pet of the recently departed ambassador, Joachim von Ribbentrop, who at one stage had had three Chows plus a Pembrokeshire Corgi (one Chow had been killed by a flying golf ball in Scotland in 1937). Ribbentrop was recalled to Berlin, leaving the remaining dogs in London, and was replaced by Herbert von Dirksen, the former ambassador to China, who was seemingly indifferent to pets.
    That afternoon a ‘mystery black cat’ 3 was seen in Downing Street. ‘When it reached the door of No. 10,onlookers cheered,’ a newspaper reported. ‘When photographers rushed forward, the cat fled.’
    It was going to be war, surely, and better to follow Government advice. Many thousands of pet owners were doing just that. A nation of animal lovers stirred.
    On Tuesday, 29 August, Mrs G. Blandford, a schoolmistress from Highbury, north London, noted in her diary: ‘I seem to see such a lot of people taking cats about in baskets – evidently to be destroyed, as the people are obviously not going on a journey.’
    A newly-wed couple in Kingston recalled the neighbours coming round and suggesting firmly that their dogs – an Alsatian and a Cocker Spaniel – be destroyed ‘in case they ran amok in an air raid and bit them’. During this genteel-enough discussion, the dogs inconveniently did a lot of barking. Perhaps they sensed the gnawing tension building in the London suburbs. Their pets had to go; it was the kindest thing to do.
    The next day at NARPAC’s new Bloomsbury headquarters there was a frantic effort to get firearms licences distributed, organize cars, armbands, badges and identity cards. Actual anti-gas and rescue equipment was meant to come from local authority stores. No one seemed to know much about it but twenty-two designated veterinary posts – based in existing surgeries – were now on alert across London.
    Evacuation of children from London was officially announced on the 31st