Cats – Page 2 – Mystery, fantasy and romance at the dangerous ends of the earth

Routine, Flexibility and Permission (oh my)

By Karen Abrahamson | March 12, 2011

I broke routine this morning and slept in until almost seven a.m. The weird thing is, the cats broke routine, too, and let me. Usually they are right there, yelling, or pouncing on me (see here for a wonderful cartoon of the experience), or else Ben will go into the kitchen and bang cupboards or otherwise wreak destruction to get me up. After all, cat tummies are far more important than my beauty sleep.

But this morning they broke routine. Actually they’ve ‘broken’ routine for the past week or so, ever since the corner of my bedroom started to seriously collect things for my trip. Last night I actually began the task of inventorying and packing. I think I have them nervous. I think they know I’m going somewhere soon. After all, they’re far from stupid. But the simple act of letting me sleep is consistent with other behavioral changes they are showing. For example Ben actually managed to crowd onto my lap and fall asleep while I was typing yesterday afternoon, when usually he just plants himself on top of my desk and pushes everything else to the floor. He also made a point of sleeping on my lap last evening. Definitely things are up.

We all know cats have routines and heaven help us if we vary from anything that impacts their feeding, brushing or taking them for walks. (Yes, mine go for walks on leashes.)

Shiva wanting to catch a fly (2010) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

As writers we need those routines, too. For me it has always been a routine to get up at 5:30 and write for two hours before I have to turn to work. I’ve done that for the past ten years and produced about four books a year, until this January when I was ‘forced’ to give it up.

Okay, not forced. I chose to give up. There I was in the middle of manuscript revisions and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was over my head with work and preparing for this trip and had started having nightmares. So something had to give. It was a horrible choice. The guilt was enormous and so was the feeling of failure. But it was also a relief because I was hating everything I was doing because I didn’t have the time to do it well.

A friend of mine recently went through a similar experience for totally different reasons. He moved, due to a job change and then had to spend his time moving in and focusing on the new job. Time passed. He didn’t write. He blogged (here) about the challenge that posed for him because he, like myself, has been regimented about his writing and is a spectacular writer who recently sold his first four book series. His pain is that during his move he hasn’t written a word.

To me the ‘not writing’ has been a lot like what going through nicotine withdrawal must be like. I still find myself at the computer early in the morning, I know I should write (and I do—on work), but the most I’ve been able to write creatively has been these blogs. I tell myself it’s okay, but I know it’s not because it’s very easy to fall out of a habit that’s good for you and very easy to fall into a habit that’s not –like sleeping in.

On Thursday I received a phone call from the airline that is taking me to Peru. They advised that the flight times had changed and therefore I have to leave a day early and layover in Toronto overnight. Thanks goodness my schedule as a consultant is a little flexible. I was able to do it, even if it’s going to be tight for work. Be flexible, I said.

So I’ve decided that writers need to follow my cat’s lead and give themselves permission. Instead of being rigid and getting anxious about not writing, writers need to assess their situation and give themselves permission to not write. Occasionally the world intervenes, like my friend’s move, like another friend’s illness, like another friend dealing with a death in the family. I know all of them are back at the keyboard.

And I know I’m a writer, so I’ll be blogging while I’m travelling and writing when I get back from Peru. That’s promise, just as surely as I know Ben and Shiva will be back to caterwauling in the morning.

Shiva, imposing himself on thanksgiving dinner (2010) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

Kitty Sitters – or choose your writing friends and governments wisely

By Karen Abrahamson | March 5, 2011

This post arises from the fact that I’m leaving soon for a month in Peru, and also from recent news casts about what’s happening in Libya. With regards to the former, my biggest worry in preparing for this trip has been how to ensure my two cats are cared for during my absence. In the past when I’ve travelled for a long trip my parents have helped me out by moving in for the month or so to care for my ‘kids’ or else I’ve had a wonderful spouse to take on the chore. But this time my parents are getting to an age where travelling for cats is a too much for them, and the spouse – well, that’s no longer an issue.

So I have to find an alternative.

On the boat upriver to Seim Reap, Cambodia (2008)

For short trips I have wonderful neighbors who come in and feed the boys and give them cuddles, but three to five days is about maximum I can leave because these cats are so darn needy of human affection. Given their high activity level, I couldn’t very well take them to a kitty resort (read kennel) because I’m sure they’d go stir crazy. I know I would, confined to a small ‘cell’. Even places that have a cat run, don’t have the space these guys need. I mean, these are cats that would explode if they were cooped up that long. Messy, I think. All that cat fur and innards splattered everywhere. They normally run circles around the house just for fun.

Luckily I’ve been fortunate to locate a lovely local grandmother who has agreed to come live with the boys for the month. She’d like to have a cat and she’d like to live in this area (her grandkids are here), so it’s the perfect arrangement. She’s come by a number of times now, just to get to know the boys and so we could check each other out. She’s even brought her grandkids with her (I fed them sugar and sent them home with her – guess I owe her an apology on that one).

Anyway, all of that effort to make sure my cats were cared for made me think of how we need to pay the same kind of attention to choosing our writing companions. I’m talking about the people we share our new writing with, whether in critique groups or one-on-one manuscript exchanges. I’ve heard a number of my writing friends (people I really admire) talk about hellish writing groups they are, or have been, involved with. Many of them tell horror stories of groups spending agonizing hours checking grammar and spelling, or fighting, instead of getting to the heart of the writing, or of writers who seem to be determined not to advance their craft, because they will not hear the advice of those farther down the road than they are. Others are caught in the myths of the publishing industry and choose not to educate themselves in what is happening to publishing at the moment and how that impacts us as writers.

Luckily, my first real writing group found me at the Surrey International Writers Conference. I ran into a work acquaintance and he introduced me to his all-male writers group, which was looking for a woman’s perspective. Good thing I got their humor, but they were serious about their writing and those friendships are some I still treasure to this day. I’ve been fortunate to be able to attend Clarion and made more friends that I still count on, and from there I found my way to Kris Rusch and Dean Smith and the outstanding cadre of writer’s they’ve created. I hope to have these friendships for the rest of my life.

What is it about these groups and individuals that are different than those other groups people have described? They are serious. They are committed. They are open minded. When they look at a manuscript they are looking at whether the manuscript works, not whether I crossed a T or put the comma in the right place. Most of all they are supportive and can not only tell me when a manuscript doesn’t work, but why it doesn’t and what might fix it. They do it in a manner that leaves me energized and ready to go back and face the rewrites. They fuel my writing and any time I can meet with this far-flung group is a VERY good day. Best of all, I think the feeling is reciprocated. We care for each other and we will help each other through the rough spots.

Early morning in the remote Tibetan village of Lamusa. (1998) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson — Early morning in the remote Tibetan village of Lamusa. It's a long way home from here. (1998) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

Which brings me to Libya and my trip. You see, with all the trouble in Libya – things that could not be foreseen – I find myself appalled at how the Canadian government has acted on behalf of Canadians stranded in that country. You see the Canadian government didn’t act quickly to get Canadian nationals out of the country when things blew up. Instead they’ve made excuses that they couldn’t get insurance to take a plane in to Tripoli Airport. PARDON ME? You couldn’t get INSURANCE? You left Canadian citizens to beg their way on to other countries’ rescue planes.

I’m sorry to be political, but I’m not going to stay cosseted in a country where the current Prime Minister is trying to make bureaucrats officially describe our government as the “Harper government”, instead of Government of Canada. As a traveler I try not to put myself in harm’s way, but who could predict what was going to happen in North Africa? I always thought (hoped) the Canadian government would be there for me if things went bad. Seems I was mistaken. But then this is the Harper Government.

Shame on you Prime Minister. Seems I take better care of my cats than you do of your citizens.

Money: Or horses are like tomatoes (and cats are, too)

By Karen Abrahamson | February 28, 2011

This blog is about money. It may be very short. Or long.

You see, money and I have a long and troubled relationship. Yes, I’m doing okay at the moment, but it hasn’t always been so good. I can recall winters of eating mostly potato soup, or venison the neighbors donated to me and my spouse. I still remember the night our ‘house’ almost burned down when the wood heater (we couldn’t afford a furnace) overheated. The house? A converted garage cum chicken coop (not kidding). So I’ve seen some good times and some bad and right now things are less bad than others so I’m doing the not-too-smart thing and running off travelling. I guess my mom didn’t teach me so good.

So what does this have to do with travel and writing? Because I’m planning out the money for my Peru trip a number of money rules have started reverberating in my mind. I thought I’d share some that relate to travel and writing.

Tibetan monks after ceremony, Labrang, China (1998) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

My writing mentors, Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch have some wonderful blogs about writers and money. One of their major rules that all writers should remember is that ALL MONEY FLOWS TO THE WRITER. What this means is that writers should not be paying faux publishing companies or shady agents to edit and revise the writer’s manuscript. True enough. Those scam artists who offer to publish your book if you only send them cash, are preying on new writers who don’t know that rule. But in this day of digital self-publishing a variation on the rule is, Money flows to the writer unless you are paying someone to edit your manuscript for self-publishing to ensure that you are publishing the highest quality possible. It might also mean that the writer who doesn’t want to learn how to make book covers, spends some money to have a creditable cover made for the book. Any writer prepared to do this needs to consider how long it is going to take to recoup the dollars spent, but also consider whether their time is better spent doing what they do best – namely writing.

All well and good, but unfortunately the rule with travel is that ALL MONEY FLOWS FROM THE TRAVELER. First there was the cost of the jacket I wrote about. Then there are new hiking boots (mine just died), and then there are the things like camera memory cards etc. Those are all the sundry costs before you go.

And then there is the cost of travel. As a relatively seasoned traveler, I like to plan for costs before I leave, because I don’t like depending on plastic when I’m overseas. First of all there’s the fact plastic runs up debt. Then there’s the fact that overseas use of credit and bank cards is more prone to problems. Picture this: In Delhi I went to my bank (an international that has branches almost everywhere) and plugged my bank card into their bank machine. Said machine eats card. On a Sunday. In the afternoon. Monday I call said bank and am told that said card had been reported stolen. I ended up spending almost 24 hours phoning my branch back home to get things sorted out.

Nope, cards are great backups, and cash may be good to get the best rate in exchange, but give me a good old traveler’s check any day. American Express or Thomas Cook are my best friends when I travel and are less tempting to thieves, as well.

But budgeting for travel can be a problem. I always plan for my expected costs and then double the amount , but even that has left me high and dry a couple of times. For instance in Cambodia, two years ago we budgeted about $2,000.00 for a bit over a month. I suppose that would have been fine, except inflation had hit Cambodia and everyone wanted everything paid in American dollars. Cash. I was never so happy to get back to Thailand where the costs seemed more manageable and we could use plastic because the time in Cambodia had eaten up the money faster than I’d figured. So rule three and four: ALWAYS EXPECT TO BE OVER BUDGET and ALWAYS HAVE A CONTINGENCY.

In the same vein, expect there to be times when travelling cheap is just too painful. I recall sitting in a grotty hotel room in a town in central China after a nightmare journey down the Yangtze River. My traveling companion and I were both close to tears and the thing that held us together was the fact that the next morning we knew we had the cash to lug our backpacks down the street to the nicest hotel in town (even with a swimming pool). When you travel YOU MUST BUDGET ENOUGH MONEY TO ALLOW YOURSELF TO RECOVER. Travel is hard. Backpacker travelling is even harder and if you don’t build in a comfort buffer you will find yourself hating your trip and travel. That’s not what it’s all about.

My last rule comes to me from a previous spouse who might have never travelled but he was wise in common sense and the way of horses. He was an old cowboy and superb horseman and he told me that horses are like tomatoes: they are just as perishable and just as easily ruined. Hard to believe, I know, but a 1,500 lb equine is so darned prone to injury and illness that they can go from magnificent dressage horse to fox feed in next to no time. Illustration: A very good hunter jumper mare cast herself upside down in a ditch on my property. We got her out, but the poor thing was exhausted. Did she just stay down until she regained strength? Oh no. She fought to get to her feet – so hard she broke her leg. So I learned the hard way to insure my horses and now, believe it or not, I have medical insurance for my cats, too. It has paid off, because Big Ben has already had far too many misadventures like shattering a toe in his carry cage.

Humans are no different. So the last thing a traveler wants to do is be caught somewhere having to shell out big bucks to cover medical costs. My parents had a lovely trip to Palm Springs end on an unfortunate note when my mom had heart troubles and ended up hospitalized. On my trip along the Silk Road an acquaintance on the bus behind ours had his arm shattered when his bus went off the road. Thus my last rule of travel is ALWAYS TRAVEL WITH MEDICAL INSURANCE. Let me leave you with my litany of past injuries and illnesses as illustration:

• Tropical ulcers in East Africa that required medical attention and frequent debriding (something you do not want to go through) and antibiotic shots for months.

• Food poisoning in West Africa that required my hotel staff to bundle me up and get me on a plane out.

• Food poisoning in Burma that (thankfully) required nothing (except a very rapid-fire rejection of the food).

• Two sprained ankles in China that made the next month and a half a nightmare ride.

• Walking pneumonia in India.

I hate to think what it would have cost if I something REALLY bad had occurred.

I guess I’d better be careful hiking the Peruvian mountains.

Big Cats and Small – Nurturing what we have

By Karen Abrahamson | February 26, 2011

Male lion, Serengeti (1994) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

I’m trying to write this blog with a 16 pound cat yelling in my ear and grabbing my sleeve in his teeth to get my attention. He’s an insistent, not-so-little guy who knows when he needs me and I don’t know anyone who can completely ignore him. Frankly, some people wonder how I put up with his delinquency and I know that Bengal cats are frequently turned in to the SPCA for exactly the types of behavior Ben exhibits, but Ben is just asking for what he needs – in this case a few minutes of my time for pats and belly rubs. I can react to it either by ignoring him or doing what I signed on for when I adopted him – nurturing him just as he meets my need for company.

Sometimes, when I’m extremely busy or in the heat of writing, my first inclination is to ignore him—as much as you can ignore a 16 lb cat gnawing on your sleeve – but lately I’ve come to accept this is part of having this wonderful companion and that the best I can do is nurture him, just as I need to nurture myself as a writer.

For me, nurturing does not come natural. I once described myself as having been AWOL when they handed out the Florence Nightingale gene. I’m regimented in my life and always seem to put the hard work first, before I get to the things that nurture my soul, and giving cats attention. Thus, at this moment, I’m so swamped it feels like having a life just comes second. Of course, my life is what I’m using up while I’m consumed with work. Somehow I forget to take care of the little things – like spending five minutes of play with each of my cats. So little and yet it has such wonderful pay-off. There is just nothing like thick fur and a purring, ecstatic kitty-face to make me smile and relax from the rat race.

So as writers we need to give ourselves time off. We need to do things like stop to listen to the first birds of spring, read good books and go for walks alone or with friends, or just have a bubble bath – whatever makes you feel whole again. Nurturing yourself as a writer also means giving yourself a chance to celebrate what you have. The skills you’ve gained as a writer, and the determination to keep writing – or the fact that you’ve started or finished a short story, a novel, whatever you’ve written—should be celebrated. Writers shouldn’t let defeat and negativity make them blind to those assets and accomplishments.

This is a lot like recognizing the wonderfulness of the two little demons I cohabit with. They forgive me when I ignore them and are so thrilled when I pay attention.

There is something wonderful about cats, whether a placid housecat or the great wild cats. They both have something mystical about them. Or maybe it’s mythic, except there is such an element of the clown in most cats. I’ve never seen a tiger in the wild, and I likely never will given the decline of their population. But I have been fortunate enough to see a mother cheetah teach her youngsters to hunt and have watched their playful lounging after they gorged. I’ve seen elusive leopards hang limp in a tree after gorging on a gazelle that must have outweighed them. And I’ve seen lions – prides of them – sprawled on a sunny kopje in the Serengeti, and playing silly games in the game parks of Botswana. I remember one young female who thought it was fun to push over a small tree. Every time she did, it smacked another lioness in the face, and I swear the youngster knew exactly what she was doing. A lot like Ben knows what he’s doing when he takes a swipe at one of my pictures and sends it sliding.

Yup. Got my attention, little man.

I read a sad article in the Vancouver Sun newspaper the other day. It was about African lions and how they may disappear from the wild within 10 years. Their numbers have fallen from about 150,000 in the wild ten years ago to about 20,000 total today. IN ALL OF AFRICA. The article went on to say that once the numbers of a species fall below a certain level the race to extinction accelerates. I was so shaken by the article I couldn’t even read it all the way to the end in one sitting. A world with no lions? I couldn’t imagine it; or I could, and it broke my heart.

The article went on to talk about how a few National Geographic researchers and the Botswana government are working to try to bring them back in that country. Nurturing. And it made me realize that lack of nurturing is a huge problem in our world. From our children, to the oceans, to the jungles, to other cultures, to ourselves, to my cats – we are failing our world because, at least in the west, we’ve become far too focused on work and our own personal challenge to just get through it, to the point where we don’t appreciate the gifts around us.

I feel so fortunate to have heard the grunt-grumble roar of a lion and to have seen the magnificent sprint of cheetahs. To have smelled the dusty cat-scent of a lion as it nosed the side of the jeep I was in, and to have looked into its amber eyes. There was something there: intelligence, but different than a person’s. Something wild and foolish and wonderful that I see mimicked in Ben and Shiva’s gaze. And we’re at risk of losing the great cats unless we take the time to nurture the other inhabitants of this world.

So I’m going to step away from my desk and write a check to the National Geographic Society. I’m going to find out what I can do locally to help the environment.

But before that, I’m going to go pat my cats.