Sunday, December 8, 2013

When a Cat has An Episode

I have handled a lot of kittens and cats, and not only love-demanding lap-kitties like my Pasha. At the shelter, they came in scared, defiant, and – yes – sometimes hissing and lashing out until they realized life was better in a warm cage with lots of food than cowering hungry in a ditch.

But never before did I have a cat go completely berserk on me. Once again as many times before, the now adult sleek cat came to visit for a few days. He has always been a bit jerky, and so I gingerly tried to pick him up to check him over as I always do to make sure he came alone (if you get my drift).

Out of the blue, he began to scream (yes, scream), and literally flew through the house like a deranged banshee. He wound up on top of the kitchen cabinets and while the hair on my neck stood on end, I tried to calm him, speaking softly, reaching up with tempting treats. But every time I looked at him, he went into this psychotic behavior racing back and forth, screaming.

(Perhaps an ancient Ba - with big ears -  took over his little soul)

It lasted all day until I finally gave up and went to bed (early). The next morning, there he was, lying at my feet together with my own two cats. La-di-da – when’s breakfast?

Considering that this used to be the sickly kitten I had ‘diapered,’ for heaven’s sake from when he was nine days old, and that he often comes to spend time at my house when his ‘mom’ is traveling, this odd incident left me shaken. And Pasha was totally confused, to say the least.



Sadly, the little bugger just might have bansheed himself out of this one baby-sitter...

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Sola, Perduta, Abbandonata


Listening to Maria Callas sing the famous aria 'alone, lost and abandoned' from Puccini’s Manon Lescaut, I realize that this was exactly how I felt last night during this icy winter storm. Outside, everything was encased in a sheet of ice; the neighbors were holed up (just as I was), and the tall pines are still leaning ever more ponderously over the house, bent to the breaking point under their icy mantles.

 If it weren’t for my two furry buddies, Pasha and Lilliput, I’d be packing my bags and driving south; Mexico, Belize, Costa Rica; any place free from the wrath of ice and sleet. Wait! I can’t even get out of my frozen-shut garage door. Bummer!

How could I have so miscalculated my research on Arkansas. To me, this was The South: languid, balmy, full of hospitable people with sweet tea, mint juleps and a stronger accent than I have (so they say—of course, I don’t believe it).

Don’t be too harsh with my rash decision to flee the crowds of Southern California. As I said, I had done my research and other than falling in love with a huge Palladian window that made me buy this house sight-unseen, all those wooded hills and lakes looked good to me (the price was right, too). The annual Arkansas average temperature was touted as being 65 Fahrenheit. The thing I hadn’t realized was that this mild “average” temperature was derived from 103° in the summer and some minus 20s during these infamous ice storms. Duh!

“I can do that,” I gloated to my West Coast city friends who repeatedly asked me, ‘Haven’t you seen Deliverance!’ (Poor Arkansas. It does have an undeserved “mountain-folksy” reputation.)

But today, ‘the morning after,’ the sun is out and everything is looking up; albeit the temps are still way below the freezing point. The birds are pecking away at their sunflower seed – and there come the squirrels. Funny how the jungle drums work around here.


So far, we have not lost power, and I dragged in lots of wood and have kept the fireplace going all night. Alas, tonight is another night...(lousy paraphrasing, I admit) – and another bout of freezing rain is predicted.


I was just having a little moan. I feel much better now ...

Friday, December 6, 2013

Pasha and I are Hunkered Down

Pasha, Lilliput and I are hunkered down (that's what the Weather Channel tells us to do).

It may look pretty right now, but as the ice accumulates on the trees - especially the tall pines all around my house - bad things might happen at any time. It is 3 AM and I am up, dressed, and in my boots with all doors unlocked in case we have to make a quick get-away. Wouldn't want to be caught running out of the house in my jammies.


That's why I think I'll postpone my Friday-blog hop celebration until I can breath easier; apparently not until beginning of next week.

Until then, be safe everyone - and, as always, thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

And Speaking About Elephants

I belong to a Goodreads Group called "All About Animals," where animal-loving readers and writers come together exchanging thoughts, news, and reading/writing habits.

Someone there posted the link below that speaks about new funding for an elephant-survey. Of course, a survey is one thing; preventing poaching actively is another. We can only hope that this is the beginning of the end of the African elephant slaughter.

Please, take the time to read it.
http://www.eturbonews.com/40353/microsoft-billionaire-fund-pan-african-elephant-survey

Every year, tons (yes, tons) of contraband ivory are seized by customs and other authorities to be destroyed...alas, too late for the magnificent elephants who had to die for it.



Thursday, November 28, 2013

Authors and Their Elephants (Really)

Reading about “Bad Elephant Far Stream,” I guarantee you, it will bring tears to your eyes. How could an “advanced culture” (quotes fully intended) such as we think we are be so thoughtlessly cruel? But we are.

Author Samuel Hawley lets me tell you about his first fictionalized book about a circus Elephant named Topsy. Don’t be deceived by the fiction-label of the book.


Topsy was real.

So was her plight of being tortured into performing for a circus.


ABOUT THE BOOK
  
Bad Elephant Far Stream is an animal story for grown-ups, a novel about the odyssey of a circus elephant, told from her own perspective, through her own eyes. Inspired by the true story of the circus elephant Topsy, the subject of the 1903 Thomas Edison film "Electrocution of an Elephant," it begins in the forests of Ceylon in the late 1860s with the capture of a baby elephant known to her own kind as Far Stream. She is taken to America chained in a ship, a journey of several months, and sent to the Adam Forepaugh Circus in Philadelphia. There, Far Stream embarks on a new life under the big top, appearing first as "Baby Annie," then, when she grows bigger, as "Topsy," part of Forepaugh’s famed elephant dancing quadrille. She crisscrosses North America for thirty years with the circus, experiencing hardships, kidnapping, escapes and adventure. But when she comes to outweigh her keepers by a factor of forty--it's hard not to hurt somebody. It's hard not to be "bad.


Samuel Hawley's bio intrigued me because of his love of wild animals, and his having not only been born but also having spent time in East Asia. 
Here he tells us this about himself:

"I spent most of my working life—the part where I actually earned some money—as a college and university instructor in East Asia, where I was also born and grew up. I had long wanted to be a writer, however, after retiring from teaching and returning to Canada in 2007, I devoted myself to that full-time.

What I’ve written so far has been pretty eclectic: a history of a cataclysmic war in 16th-century Asia; two books on late 19th-century Korea; a book on the land speed record in the 1960s; a biography of a Canadian sprinter and Olympic champion; and, most recently, my first novel, Bad Elephant Far Stream, based on the true story of a circus elephant known as Topsy.

On a personal note, I like to travel and have been to quite a few places, especially in Asia. Right now I’m looking out the window of my home office here in Kingston, Ontario, at the first snow of the season, a good four inches and it’s still only November. And I’m thinking: Next year, we’re going south.

Circus Elephants in the Nineteenth Century

In doing research for Bad Elephant Far Stream, I collected a great many newspaper reports about circus elephants that were executed after having attacked or killed someone. Such creatures were frequently referred to in the press as 'bad elephants' or 'wicked elephants,' hence the title of my book.

Many of these 'bad elephants' were males who had been seized by mutsh madness and couldn’t control themselves. To give just one example, there was Romeo, the star attraction with the Adam Forepaugh Circus from 1867 to his death in 1872.

Here is a selection from a newspaper report written fifteen years after Romeo’s death recalling his 'treachery' during his troubled lifetime and the harsh treatment he received. It gives a good idea of the view that many people harbored of elephants back then—that they were vicious and would kill you if not kept thoroughly intimidated."

UGLY ELEPHANTS
Thrilling Stories of Their Wickedness in Captivity

The worst elephant that ever walked in a circus parade in the United States was Forepaugh’s well-known big elephant Romeo. He was as full of mischief as a monkey, and as dangerous as a dynamite mine. He was not bad in spells, but always bad, and his attendants never knew when his big trunk was going to swing at them with the force of a battering ram.....


Whenever an especially violent fit of temper seized Romeo, it was necessary to throw him and beat him into submission. The throwing was accomplished by fastening block and tackle to the chains on his hind legs and drawing those members up under his big body until he was compelled to let himself down. Once down, he was chained tight and held, while a dozen men would surround him and thrash him with poles until he trumpeted ‘enough.’ It frequently took hours to beat him into submission, and he was often kept lying on the floor for three or four days before he would give in....
(The Independent, Calliope, Iowa, Feb. 10, 1887, p. 8.)

Hawley continues:

"Stories such as this can be hard and even upsetting to read. I therefore don’t dwell on them in Bad Elephant Far Stream. The mistreatment is there—it was a fact of life for Topsy and her kind and cannot be avoided—but it is for the most part toned down.

My goal in writing the book wasn’t to publicize and trumpet about elephant mistreatment back then, but rather to portray the life journey of another creature, a nonhuman creature, in a believable and compelling way."


* * *

Thank you, Samuel Hawley, for sharing your love and passion for nature’s majestic creatures. While we will never be able to save them all, there are enough people out there who do care enough to save as many as they can; innocent creatures caught in our increasingly over-crowded world that would otherwise be lost.

* * *

As an Interesting Aside from me:

Did you know there is an elephant sanctuary right near me in Arkansas? I was amazed and, of course, had to go and see for myself. It was wonderful to see how well these animals were loved and cared for, and to listen to their stories (and to see the new baby).

You have got to check out Riddle’s Elephant and Wildlife Sanctuary:

* * *

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Authors and Their “Moo to Meow” Passions

Author Cathy Unruh


Cathy's blog is tellingly entitled: “Moo2Meow.” Through it, she passionately combines her love of writing and reporting with a fierce advocacy for all animals, from farm to family room.


Her passions are best highlighted by some of the quotes from her blog as she invites us to join her “in making this a more compassionate planet for all living creatures. Our earth and its inhabitants need all the kindness we have to offer. Let’s share some today!”

And this one:
“... we are capa­ble not only of turn­ing our empa­thy down but also of turn­ing it up…Empathy is like a mus­cle that becomes stronger as we use it. Here’s to a great work­out.”


That says it all, doesn’t it. What gems - except for the reminder that I missed gym again this morning; oh, I know, she speaketh in parables.

Her own 'Meow' Fred inspired her to write this cat-thriller filled with depth and humor:

Taming Me:  Memoir of a Clever Island Cat



And for today, Cathy leaves us with this thought:

“Get to know a cow. Hug your cat. A big heart does a body good.”





Believe me, my friends, "try it, you'll like it."
Because she means it.



Visit Cathy Unruh at these sites; I promise you, it is time well spent.

YouTube

Thursday, November 21, 2013

It happened Fifty Years Ago

Rather than celebrating for our Friday Blog-Hop, I am going to recall something that sadly happened fifty years ago.

I had just returned home to Austria from my year in Moscow, and was on my way to get a job at the 1964 Olympic Winter Games in Innsbruck. The evening before I was to board a train there, we watched television at our favorite inn. The shock reverberated through our little village; as it did indeed throughout the world.


As this is the 50th Anniversary of President Kennedy’s assassination, I thought it would be appropriate to share my poem about JFK’s June 26, 1963 visit to Berlin. The ‘cursed’ Wall finally came down on November 11, 1989.







Peace: War’s Abandoned Grave

From its cachéd acorn womb
the seedling sprouts through pungent moss,
soon greened by a rambunctious spring’s exuberance.
The Westwind, taking pity, laughs and heaves
and trembles off the would-be devourer of tender leaves.

The sapling climbs toward the tranquil summer sky,
shading the meadow by the river,
until the Eastwind, cold and blustery,
defeats the balmy climes
and heralds in this city’s soon-to-come heart-breaking times.

Branches at half-mast, the tree holds silent vigil
against the rapings by lust-driven Ural-hordes.
Its meadow barren, flowers vanquished under iron treads,
the oak, denuded in the smoke-veiled morn’,
breathes acrid mist from the River Spree, forlorn.
 
Amber tears drip from the tree’s strafed bark
as the proud city, quartered by its raucous victors,
writhes in shredded ruin, a graveyard of the living dead.
A people torn apart, despaired,
as brother now must fear the brother whom war had spared.

A saw’s rasping bite takes hold;
the last tree topples at the cusp of dawn.
The oak’s green planks strain vainly toward freedom
from deep within the cursed Wall.
A fire-blackened church accuses, a grim reminder to them all.

The pendulum of time reverses.
Survivors hail their former foe.
To these living dead, abandoning their graves of war,
as if he were a citizen, but keener,
a young world leader avows peace with:
“Ich bin ein Berliner!”

* * *
From “Moments of the Heart, A Book of Poems and Short Prose”


Monday, November 18, 2013

Authors and Their Inspirations

As another post about authors and their animals, Pasha and I are happy to introduce the inspiration and entire fan section of Author Julie Flanders: 

Happy, but definitely not yappy Clancy, and languid, sanguine Nate who knows a thing or two about comfortable spots.


   

Not only is Julie Flanders an avid supporter and spokesperson for animal rescue, she also believes in ghosts (actually, I don’t know that for sure, but she does write about them). Her soon-to-be-published novel is set on one of my favorite islands on the East Coast: Martha’s Vinyard.

The Ghosts of Aquinnah
will be released by Ink Smith Publishing
on December 5, 2013



Here is a preview to whet your whistle:

A brilliant flash of light transcends through time. Another freezes a cloaked figure within a frame of salty mist as waves crash against a rocky shore. Her harrowing expression shadows the beacon to a pinprick.
By the next blaze, she is gone. Only the lighthouse remains. Hannah’s eyes blink in step with each heartbeat. Images of her deceased parents and Martha’s Vineyard explode like firecrackers inside her mind. She shakes her head.
For weeks this eerie woman dressed in nineteenth century garb has been haunting my webcam, but tonight she stared into my soul.
Why? ...Who is she? ...
Casting aside months of research on historic lighthouses, Hannah drives to the coast and boards a ferry.
What is the strange connection she has to this mysterious woman suspended in time?
Hannah finds out. But, it’s not at all what she expects ... Instead, Hannah unravels a century old murder.
* * *
Julie Flanders is a novelist and freelance writer in Cincinnati, Ohio. She has a life-long love affair with the ocean and has spent more summer vacations than she can count on the island of Martha’s Vineyard.

When not writing, Julie can be found reading, cheering on her favorite sports teams, and being acting in animal rescue groups.

* * *
Find Julie at:

Friday, November 15, 2013

The Chipmunk and I

This Friday, again, I should be celebrating. Instead, I find myself wrapped in a bit of melancholy. You ask what a chipmunk has to do with that. Maybe it is the approaching winter and I find myself increasing the stores in my pantry, sawing gathered fallen branches for the fireplace and splitting the pieces for kindling (which in itself keeps me warm). The idea of going into a partial hibernation appeals to me.

I am coming to my point in a roundabout way: If I have been found wanting in participating in this blog-hop, it is not your blogs, but my hopping. You see, when one get's older, everything else you own does too. Hence, my trusted 2003 Dell can't quite keep up with all your fancy blogs and their moving parts. More often than not, it freezes up on me, green little dervishes appear on the task bar and the hard drive indicates a 100% usage. Sometimes, I have to pull the plug. Frustrating.

Replace it, you say. Yes, while it was easy to get a new water heater, clothes dryer, stove--changing all my files over to a new computer with Windows 8 (ugh, yikes--not writer-friendly) gives me nightmares.

Making a long story short, don't hate me for not "hopping" as much as I had hoped to - it's not you. It's me.

Hence, I'll concentrate on laying in more stories (with several in the works and even more in my head).

Actually, I would appreciate it if you could you take a quick look at my WIP (click above page for "Devil Winds"). Which one of the new covers for CATACLYSM would catch your eye as a reader?

But you, my friends, go forth and celebrate!

Friday, November 1, 2013

Celebrating Rings and Circles


The first rings that caught my attention were the Olympic Rings. You see, I happened to work for the Austrian Olympic Committee at one of the Innsbruck Winter Games. No, not the ones some of you can remember. I am talking about the earlier ones (now you are doing the math, right?). With the Sochi Games quickly approaching, I am reminded again how important a symbol those rings are as they stand for excellence, teamwork and peace.


Despite my aforementioned fondness for rings (and that includes the ones holding precious stones), there are those that baffle me. They are the Google Circles. Many nice people have “put me into their Circle.” To date, I have not reciprocated as I am hesitant to “click willy-nilly,” without understanding what all this does – for me, for them and the last thing I would want to do is to annoy “my Circle” every time I type something...

Now, I guess I better google the meaning of Google Circles.