Ace Varkey's Blog: Cat got my tongue, page 2

Thinking Outside the Box/Stinking Outside the Box

This past week, as 2016 came to an end and the new year began, I happened to meet a handsome black cat that looks very like a panther. But unlike a panther in the wild, this cat stays indoors, which means a lot of window time for him, and litter clean up time for his human. Except that the cat never ends up using the litter box. He has every good intention, which means he goes to the rectangular box, but once there, he turns himself around so that he does his business outside the box. Stinking outside the box, which does not sit well with his human.
So of course I got to thinking about how writers often talk about writing outside the box, thinking outside the box, if you will. It's a tricky thing, being outside the box. Sometimes it works, and other times, as with the cat, it back fires.
Take my Commissioner Oscar D'Costa mystery series. I thought I was writing inside the box by creating a male protagonist and setting the story in India (these days there are mysteries set in Italy, Ireland, France, to name a few) and then I thought I was thinking outside the box by highlighting a social problem in every novel, the first of which dealt with human trafficking. I had hoped the combination of inside/outside would be a winning one, and would garner interest. Not quite. I recently heard from a reader that my novel did not have enough women in it. Sigh. Never mind that the novel begins with a girl going missing, and is propelled by her sister looking for her.
I guess, like the panther cat, I need to think some more before I sit down and face the rectangular screen of my computer.

The Christmas Cat and Other Tales

Felix is an odd cat. First of all, his name is overkill because Felix is cat in Latin. Second, he likes the strangest things, from bananas to green beans to ribbons. This last becomes very tricky during the Christmas season. Felix has been known to chew off ribbons and then, of course, he throws up said ribbons all over the house. It's a bit of an obstacle course, with the obstacle being the same thing every time: Felix upchucks.
If Felix is odd, I thought, how am I odd as a writer? I write by numbers, as in, I check the number of words I have written before I shut down for the night. I am also odd in that I can't read certain novels when I write because I tend to imitate. One time I was reading Nabokov and suddenly these long sentences appeared on the screen. You could say I was upchucking my version of the great Nabokov (though I know I can never, ever, be Nabokov).
While Felix wrestles with ribbons, I wrestle with the downtime at Xmas. Should I feel bad because there isn't time to write? Should I take advantage of yuletide trimmings such as a roaring fire, hot chocolate and trying out the gifts I've been lucky to receive?
I wish you, who is reading this, a happy Xmas, downtime season. May your gifts come wrapped in ribbons and if there is a Felix in your life, get rid of the ribbons pronto. Ah, if only we could get rid of the ribbons in our lives that easily! Now that would be something....as magical as a cat who eat ribbons, as magical as a book that transports us to strange and new places.

Take 4 ends the Ex-purr-iment

But Mr. Elm spoke with determination in his voice,

"I'll dig my roots deep in the ground
And in a few years I'll rebound
They'll cut my trunk but I won't die,
I'll grow again to touch the sky."

They all agreed it was a good plan. Mr. Elm would beat the humans, after all.

Then Laser hissed,

"I'll lose my skin but I won't die
Earth's no hell where I shall fry.
I'll dig a hole and there I'll stay
Until the bad times go away.
There is no reason nor no rhyme
Why I can't wait: I've got the time."

Laser uncoiled himself from Mr. Elm's trunk and looked defiantly at his friends. They all congratulated him on his plan. He, too, would not give up.

Now Cow spoke,

"I shall keep on with my talk
Until I can no longer walk.
I'll warn the world like I did you
To save themselves and others too."

Cow was right. They all had to look after each other if they were going to be saved.

Now they all looked at Gaya. She blushed. She wished there was something she could do. But what? She could not fight humans.

Then Cow spoke hesitantly.

"There is something that you can do
But please don't feel I'm forcing you
Each of us must do our bit
To save the earth and what's in it.
When you go home tonight you'll see
Your can of food has parts of me.
Do you know that what you eat
Is nothing other than cow meat?
I don't mean me because I'm here
I'm talking of the others, dear."

Gaya was very surprised. She did not know this. Then she remembered that her favorite food was BEEF LIVER, and of course, beef comes from cows. But Gaya was a quick learner. Now she said,

"Holy cow, you are so right
I eat your kin most every night.
I promise that from this day forth
I'll do something to save the earth
I'll chew on grass instead of meat
After all, it's what you eat!"

Cow nodded and the others did the same. They were each going to do something that would ultimately help them all. If Gaya stopped eating Beef Liver, then cows would not be killed. If cows were not to be killed, then trees would not be felled to create space for growing grass. If trees were allowed to stand tall and proud and straight, then they would help creatures like Laser. The whole earth would be a better place. It was quite simple, really. Each of them just had to do their best and together they would be successful.

Take 3 of the Ex-purr-iment

Mr. Elm shuddered and a few pieces of bark fell off his trunk. According to the grapevine, humans were cutting trees to feed such creatures. Gaya and Laser clung even tighter to Mr. Elm, as if they thought the Enemy was the cow.

But as the cow came nearer they saw she was very, very, thin. Her ribs were sticking out and big tears kept rolling down from her eyes. Her long eyelashes were matted together. She stopped when she saw the three creatures and gave a long sigh. Gaya felt very sorry for her.

She said,

"You look sick and hungry too
Will you let us care for you?"

The cow unexpectedly smiled and shook her head, her bell going jingle, jangle.

"Can't you tell my pretty child,
I'm a rebel running wild.
The humans tried to fatten me
Along with many others, see.
At first we chewed the cud all day
And no one thought to run away."
She paused and then continued,
"But when we heard their plan for us
A few of us kicked up a fuss."

The cow stopped talking and lay down on the ground. After a few minutes she said again in a low voice as if it were painful to speak.

"They make us eat and eat and eat
So we will give them lots of meat."

Now she looked directly at Mr. Elm.

"They cut down many trees like you
To grow the grass for us to chew."

She turned back to Gaya.

"As soon as we are nice and fat
They kill us, pretty little cat."

At this point Mr. Elm, Laser and Gaya all began crying.

"I knew I couldn't fight and win
So I decided to get thin.
They let me leave and now I roam
Because I do not have a home
I try and warn my kin and friends
So they won't meet with my sad end."

Gaya felt very, very sad. Now she had three friends she could not help. Laser might get skin cancer, Mr. Elm might be cut down and Cow was afraid to eat in case she would get killed.

"There must be something we can do
That will save you and you and you," Gaya said, pointing her paw at each of her friends in turn.

But they all knew it would be impossible to fight humans. Humans have big machines that cut down trees. Gaya, Laser and Cow knew they could not save Mr. Elm from the machines.

Take 2 of the Ex-purr-iment

Gaya, the cat who wanted to save the earth cont.

Mr. Elm was an old tree. He had been standing in the same spot for many, many years. Indeed if you wanted to know his age all you had to do was ask Mr. Elm to count the rings inside his bark. If Gaya had asked him, he would have told her that he was two hundred and fifty years old.

Now Mr. Elm spoke in a raspy voice.

"Though winter's not so far away
I might not live to see that day.
The grapevine told me he has heard
From geese and crows and other birds
That trees are being cut for space
To feed the mooing, bovine race."

Both Laser and Gaya were surprised. Mr. Elm was going to be cut down? They could not believe it!

"The grapevine's such a social nerd
Can we trust his second-hand word?
I'll ask him once again and see
If it's the same thing he tells me."

Gaya said, and began running towards the vineyard. But Mr. Elm called her back.

"He won't talk except to whine,
He's busy growing grapes for wine.
I'm sure he's right because the bees
Have said the same to other trees."

Gaya came back and stood squarely in front of Mr. Elm and declared,

"Mr. Elm you can't stand there
As though what's being done is fair.
Mr. Elm we've got to fight,
What they are doing is not right."

Mr. Elm smiled a small, tired smile.

"I'm much too old to fight their plan
A tree can't win against a man."

Both Gaya and Laser knew Mr. Elm was correct. They ran up to Mr. Elm and Gaya put her paws around him while Laser wound himself tightly round the trunk.

Gaya began to cry, the big, fat tears wetting her fur.

"How I wish that I were strong
Then I could show them they are wrong
But I'm a cat and very small
I won't be any help at all."

Then Laser spoke,

"I'm just a snake and I can't aid
Your fight against an iron blade.
There must be someone we can ask
To help us in this noble task."

Just then they heard a bell in the distance. Jingle, jangle, then a pause, then the same jingle, jangle again. All three looked at each other. They knew it must be a cow. And in a few minutes they saw a cow walking down the road. Jingle, jangle, went the bell around her neck.

An Ex-purr-iment

I'm going to post the first part of a children's story and ask you, my readers, to comment on it. I'll post the next bit if you want to read more, otherwise I will go back to my usual cat/writer meditations.

Gaya, The Cat Who Wanted To Save The Earth

It was a day, like any other day, and Gaya, a little marmalade cat, was coming home from school. She had received a gold star in grooming and was very happy.

Gaya tripped along the street, singing a song and crunching leaves with her paws. She saw a large pile of golden red leaves and dived into it, a big smile on her face. Suddenly she heard a voice shout:

"Can't a body take some rest
And not be troubled by a pest?"

Gaya was frightened for it seemed to her the voice came from right under her paws. Her tail stood up straight in the air, and her eyes grew wide with alarm.

"I'm really not a pest dear sir,
I'm just a cat with orange fur."

Gaya moved away from the moving leaves and waited to see what body would show itself.

Laser the snake unwound himself from the leaves, long, lithe, and shaking with laughter. He had known it was Gaya because snakes have the ability of matching any movement to the body that makes it. He had deliberately changed his voice to trick her.

"Laser, you truly are a snake
To change your voice and make me shake."

Laser stopped laughing and neatly coiled himself next to Gaya.

"It's just a joke for April one
I only did it for some fun."

Gaya, who had forgotten it was April 1st, laughed and said,

"You're very cold so let us run
And go and find some April sun."

Gaya was a clever cat. She knew snakes are cold-blooded creatures and need the hot rays of the sun to warm their blood.

In fact, whenever she saw Laser, he was usually sunning himself. But to her surprise he shook his head.

"I may be cold but that's nicer
Than ending up with skin cancer.
I've just been told a while ago
The ozone layer's really low,
Which means the sun's rays come on strong
- I hope I haven't got this wrong.
I think I'm far too young to die
So now in shady spots I'll lie."

Gaya looked puzzled. She did not understand all that Laser had said.

"There's one part I just don't know
What makes the ozone layer low?"

Laser pointed to the clouds and said:

"It's somewhere way up in the sky
But you can't see it with your eye.
The chemicals that humans use
Have done the layer much abuse.
It's now so thin that cancer rays
Come down to earth on sunny days."

Gaya nodded. Now she understood why Laser was hiding under the leaves. She looked at the tall tree and said:

"Mr. Elm you're very nice
To keep my friend as cool as ice.
What shall he do in winter, though,
When you are bare and full of snow?"

My Cat Would Would Be King

In an earlier post I noted that Kitty O might as well be Tybalt, King of Cats, because he rules the house. That continues to be true, but I share with you yet another Kingly quality. It rained the other day, and when I opened the back door to his "Hurry Up" meows, I saw that his back and tail were wet. So, like a good minion, I got a towel and started what I anticipated would be the long process of drying him. Imagine my surprise when Kitty O stood still, purring, as I ministered to His Wetness. Any time I took a break, he would stare up at me, as if I were negligent in my duties.
This is not cat like behavior, I thought. I mean, Kitty O is unusual, yes, but this?
Then I realized that the King in him liked the fact that I was doing what essentially is his job. Most cats groom themselves. But not Kitty O. He wanted me to take that burden off his licking tongue.
I stared down at Kitty O, wishing I, too, had someone who would do my job for me. Right now I am struggling with a section in the novel that was supposed to have been done, finished, four weeks ago. But the pages stare at me as my mind draws a blank. If only someone would draw out a towel, rub it over the pages and presto! all was done!!! Wishful thinking indeed.
A human can look at a king, even if that king is a cat!

It's a Cat Thing, Take 2

For the past several weeks, Kitty O has moved residence and now sleeps anywhere he wishes to on my bed. This is a change from his previous abode: the dining room chair. He is either at the bottom of the bed where he curls up into a compact ball, in the middle, stretched out so that he occupies a large chunk of real estate, or sleeping exactly like a human, head on my pillow, back paws pointing to one corner. I wish I could ask him about this change. Why so suddenly? Why now?

I know I won't receive an answer, so I keep going, with bated breath, hoping he won't affect another sudden move. I like hearing him snore, I love feeling the rise and fall of his furry body. I definitely prefer this to all the times I have to reach under the dining room table to pet him.

This feeling is so like the times the writing flows. Then, too, I sit with bated breath, fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to take advantage of the rush of thoughts, so different from all those days when I sat at the computer and nothing happened. I never know why I have writer's block; and I never know why I am unblocked.

I guess there are more things in heaven and earth than are understood by mere mortals.

It's a cat thing

like smelly breath, for one. To put it more starkly, Kitty O's breath truly does stink, and yet I don't mind it. Why? because it's a cat thing, like the fact that he never listens to me, or the furs he drops all over the house. I handle it all with a smile because it's part of who he is, and I never forget the kitten he used to be, all eyes and playfulness.

Books start out with shiny covers and crisp pages and if, like the velveteen rabbit, they are loved, those same pages turn limp, often stippled with drops of coffee or tea, or whatever else I was eating while reading. I keep the books I have read and enjoyed so I can return to them whenever I need to. Why? because that is a book thing, to be read over and over again.

I wonder what a writer thing is? Could it be the expectation placed by readers that each new book be the same, just better than the previous one? Could it be producing a book a year? Or could it be, like James Joyce, writing a book to confound critics? Or perhaps be like Shakespeare, an enigma for the ages? Who was Shakespeare, really?

I know who Kitty O, is and I know the books that have shaped me, and now I must return to writing my Commissioner Oscar D'Costa series. Perhaps one day I will truly discover what a writer's thing is...until then, I'll keep on typing.

Phrases...fur-rases

The other day I was pondering on the many phrases I use, often without really thinking about them. For instance, Cat Got Your Tongue, which, of course, I have tweaked to helm this blog. I know it means that someone is silent, but I scratch my head at that, because I have known many cats, and let me tell you, they are not silent. They talk. And talk. I think they are brilliant because they have one word that, like a Chinese, they vary in tone, in order to generate different meanings. For my own Kitty O, a low meow is often a warning; a short one is a tentative call for attention, a precursor to becoming loud and strident should I not do his bidding. And so on...But back to those phrases. Fighting like cats and dogs? How about, more realistically, fighting like cats and cats? I mean, I have seen many a cat run away from a dog, but that same cat will stand firm, with fattened tail, to take on another cat.
And as my readers know, cats always put me in mind of writing. Writer's block. Sure, I've said it, but sometimes I like to think it should mean the exact opposite, as in a writer who has a block full of words and sentences, ready for the use. Not a block that stops paragraphs from flowing forth. I guess we will have to change 'writer's cramp' to 'writer's carpal tunnel' or writer's ct for short, given that many of use use the keyboard rather than a pen.
Right now I'd give just about anything to have that block upturned so that I can go back to writing the third Detective Oscar D'Costa mystery I started way back. My first, "The Girl Who Went Missing" seems ancient, the second, "While The Children Slept" is ready to be published, while the third sits in a block, waiting to be carved into a book.....