In the early 1960’s my husband and I and our four children lived in Morrison Street. We had a son aged eight, twin daughters aged thirteen and a son eighteen in the Merchant Navy.
He came home on leave late one night. We were talking to him and suddenly a little face peered out of his shirt. It was a small lemur which he’d brought back from Madagascar. I was horrified but as time went on he became part of the family. We had him for several years. The children called him Julius Caesar because of the fringe he had across his forehead.
All the time I was doing my housework he sat on my shoulder with his long 23 inch striped tail around my neck. He should have just been fed on fruit but he loved sitting on a stool in front of the open fire eating a chip. The children adored him and he loved them.
We had a bay window and when all the children passed on their way home from school he’d do tricks and they all sat on the front wall watching him.
After a few years I worried as he became aggressive to strangers probably because he needed a mate but then he was taken ill and died. It was like losing a small person belonging to the family. We buried him in the garden along with various cats and rabbits etc. that the children had had as pets. He had a little grave and the children have always remembered him with great affection.