Mystic waiting for Mum

Exciting to be back in my study after 4 days of being unable to breathe in here after the moth-spraying.

I said in Catalogue 80 there would be more changes and so there have been. On Sunday Mystic washed his face after lunch. And, as he has done so many times before, he knocked the scab off the sore bit on his nose.

This time he also managed to make the whole thing bigger and a lot of blood ran out of his nose, I had to staunch it with tissues. So back to the vet on Monday.

This time the vet and I had to look the situation in the eye and accept that it’s cancerous. It had by then scabbed over again but after an examination that was the only realistic conclusion. There’s nothing to be done but make life as good for him as possible for as long as possible. 18.5 is a good long life anyway in cat terms. But I’ve only known him for four months and on the selfish side, I hope he can stay around for a good while.

He had an antibiotic injection which lasts for 2 weeks, in case of subsidiary infection – it does seem to be helping and the scab stayed on for a while – when it came off this morning there was no more bleeding, though the crater is still there.

Mystic is eating well, demanding first choice of cuddling Mummy, and yesterday when the rain stopped and it was warmish, he went out for a wander. He’s sleeping more than he did before, and tending to do so up on the back of the sofa, presumably to avoid the other two.

So the other change is that I’ve now separated bedtimes – Mystic and Fluff go in the kitchen, Felix, who actually prefers privacy, gets to sleep in the dining room again with a litter tray etc in the hall. I really don’t want him scratching Mystic and breaking that damaged skin down any faster than it’s doing on its own.

So what’s round the next feline corner?


Book Review: Milele Safari-An Eternal Journey … By Jan Hawke

This book at first demanded my attention and then utterly commanded it .

Source: Book Review: Milele Safari-An Eternal Journey … By Jan Hawke


Lots of changes with the cats while I’ve been (a) dealing with domestic stuff and (b) posting poems instead of pusscats.

The battle of the fleas is now in the past, and all three cats are enjoying more peaceful snoozes and getting (mostly) far less cross with each other. However, a week ago I made a dramatic and impulsive change. I could not work out why the catwee smell was back on the landing, until suddenly one night at bedtime I spotted Mystic at it on the carpet. He’s regressed. Well, he’s now 18.5 which roughly equals 90 so I think he’s allowed to get a bit confused. He confuses me too, since he sometimes goes out and dashes up the wall and into the next garden, while at other times he seems hardly able to walk to the kitchen for dinner.

Anyhow, as they say in a certain sort of novel, ‘something snapped inside me’ that night, and I gathered all three cats and put them in the kitchen and utility for the night. Then I slept badly, feeling guilty, especially when I woke up and realised there was no-where comfy to sleep in those rooms. Also, would Felix eat the others since he so much loves his privacy, and besides wasn’t this unfair on Felix who never does anything in the wrong place, while neither of the others is wholly reliable?

They got a very early breakfast next day, and of course were all well, and all the litter-trays were full. Yay! I’ve now kept to this routine and they have apparently accepted it – I make sure they have a bed each – heaps of old towels for easy washing – it’s very warm in there thanks to the boiler, and weeing on the carpet has more or less vanished again.

I miss Mystic and Fluff coming to help me get out of bed each morning, but it had to change, unfortunately. On the whole they are getting on better with each other, and the pile-of-three on Mummy is now less common – as if they aren’t so desperate for comfort. Maybe the more enclosed sleeping-quarters has helped that?

With cats this age there are bound to be more changes soon, but this one’s worked out well. Phew!


What’s your indie-literary community done for YOU lately? Why #RRBC is the book club that makes a difference…

Jan Hawke INKorporated

To paraphrase a wise and charismatic man –

ask not what your book club can do for you, ask what you can do for your book club…”

Well – Rave Reviews Book Club (RRBC) is a place where the community does exactly that, because the premise on which it was founded is that we constantly 

profile, promote and propel our indie author members.

The idea behind this is that if we all participate in this celebration of other authors and their work, and they do the same for us, the world will get to know about us and what we do a whole faster and better than if we’re battling all on our own in a vast ocean of thousands of other writers, all trying to get their books noticed.

If you followed the last link, you’ll have an idea of what goes on with RRBC EVERY SINGLE DAY! 

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The cats are resettled after the great flea adventure, and Mystic is thriving on softer food. There will be future bulletins of course, but meanwhile I’m still sharing poems. You are encouraged to comment as writers in community should do!


I never heard her coming.

Yes, I’m deaf now, but then
reading had the same effect.

There she was, shouting,
“What did you get for your homework!?”

“2 out of 10 Miss.”
“Yes, and now you’re reading a library book!”

Her grabbing at my shoulder hurt;
The smack hurt more.
But I didn’t cry.

I was busy inside, realising.

For one thing, teachers can see
through solid wood.

For another thing –
and this was the big one –

some people thought
it wasn’t good to read.

Some people didn’t think like me.

Some people didn’t even like me.

So I became a librarian.

I’ve never stopped a single person reading;
all over the country
people’s houses are piled high with books I’ve given them
friends’ handbags stuffed with scribbled lists

and I never did get much more
than 2 out of 10 for maths.

She was just angry.
She didn’t know
she was giving me



(For 3, see FB 13/10/16)


In the grey space

between dimensions

tumble inchoate ten thousand cups


of tea we’ll never

brew each other, tangles

of washing never to mix


In twin-tub or automatic.

On the white sands

of western shores remain


ghostly potentials

of our unshod footmarks.  Unfleshed,

embraces we might have known


in clean white sheets beside a window

open to the ancient wave-song.

In every pub, tables


wait vainly for our set-down glasses;

rushing roads will never know our journey

into the country of our longing.





Mystic waiting for Mum

Mild cat alarm over the last twenty-four hours. I woke up full of anticipation yesterday as I had a lunch date in Exeter with Jane Curry, one of my very favourite writers, and it had been many years since we last met.

This meant that for the first time since adopting the pusses I would be leaving them with only dry food for lunch and would be away twice as long as they have given permission for!

So of course Mystic said, ‘I don’t feel like any breakfast, Mummy.’

I persuaded him to eat a little, and decided he would be fine. I had an immensely enjoyable day, but when I got home he was still distinctly anti-eating. Call myself a cat-mummy?

Again I coaxed a little down him.

Thankfully this morning he seemed to enjoy a smaller-than-usual breakfast, soft, mashed and pureed with water added.

So at the supermarket I bought a few small cans of ‘pate’ for cats, ‘tender bits in sauce’ and that kind of thing, and he enthusiastically devoured the whole ‘pate’ plus added water, then came and cuddled for an hour. He seems fine now. More than I can say for my nerves and guilt!

Keep calm and remember they’re really, really old – that must be my motto.

Cat cross about food 1

Meet… Rhani D’Chae ~ #RRBC #PUSHTUESDAY winner!

Jan Hawke INKorporated


As you know by now RRBC has plenty of ways to help support other indie authors. #PushTuesday is one of my personal favourites as I’ve been in this chair several times now and it never fails to give my titles a good shot in the arm for sales and reviews. Today it’s one of my favourite RRBC people’s turn in the barrel, so lets meet Rhani and help support her wonderful short story (hopefully to make it into a longer novella one of these fine days!) A Perilous Thirst.
Now it so happens that I beta read this for Rhani, so I was one of the first to review it for her on Amazon. Here’s what I had to say about it…

In this unusual and entertaining perspective of the vagaries of sexual disease in the gay vampire community, Ms D’Chae’s sophisticated and utterly hubristic narrator spills not a…

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 Komodo Dragon

 I’ve lasted longer

than anything else.

They’re all afraid

of me.


One bite and you’ve had it.

Not right away, no – days and days later.


I’ll plod after you


waiting, waiting

while the bite turns nasty

and as soon as you fall down

I’ll eat you.



While the cats sleep here’s a poem selected more or less randomly from my efforts in the poetical sphere;


My lord sits silent in his tower

across the sun-flecked strait,

though all the mountain flowers sing

and angels crowd his gate.


My lord stays deep in shadowed fear

across the severing sea,

his face turned from the urgent sun

and dulled his memory.


My lord won’t walk the island turf

beneath the open sky,

nor risk upon the tides of chance

his cherished liberty.


My lady walks the nearer strand,

she keeps the golden key,

watches the tower’s shuttered face

across the angry sea.


She dare not cross the surf-flecked strait

nor brave the island shore;

my lord’s deep dark of weary pain

has barred the heavy door.


She’ll dance upon the sand, my lord,

she’ll sing along the shore,

she’ll spin the fine gold shining thread

that twists from her soul’s core;


angels shall bear that thread, my lord

across the green dark sea,

and as they lay it at your gate

shall sing of liberty.


But wind the frail bright thread, my lord

but walk beneath the stars,

but let the soft moon’s gentle beams

dissolve the tower’s bars.


While the mountain flowers sleep, my lord

cross to your lady’s side,

and walk with her in quiet accord

beside the gentle tide.