Full Moon-Inspired Catchup to Fill in 3-Months’ Post-Hacking Silence & Recuperation

ONE WRITER’S [CREATIVE, INSECURE or JUST PLAIN ORNERY] RESPONSE to ENFORCED LITERARY–& LITERAL—SILENCE

ONE WRITER’S [CREATIVE, INSECURE or JUST PLAIN ORNERY] RESPONSE TO ENFORCED LITERARY—& LITERAL—SILENCE

Cat-lovers versus Dogophiles

I admit it. I’ve always been a cat-lover, with only a passing interest in (certain types of) dogs. My father had a golden Labrador—Timmy—labs are okay; they fall in the category of ‘beloved of ancient memory’. Collies—because they work for their keep; my sister’s very large & out-of-control Doberman. But pugs, dachshunds or small snivelling types of hyper-interbred terrier fluffiness leave me cold. And—with apologies to my dear-departed Monarch, H.M.QEII—so do Corgis.

Cats in literature can be inspiring, as for instance T.S. Eliot’s Macavity the Mystery Cat aka the Hidden Paw aka the Napoleon of Cat Crime, the all-singing-dancing master criminal villain of his collection of starstruck poems with its popular Andrew Lloyd Weber musical adaptation. Based on Sherlock Holmes’ arch-nemesis Professor Moriarty, the ginger tabby’s nefarious deeds include cheating at cards, kidnapping, and exhibiting a general disregard for the laws of Jellicle society.

Macavity is a star.

Similarly, Lewis Carroll’s friend of Alice (in-Wonderland) who grins from tree branches or appears magically at her side, below right, brings an other-worldly take on what Americans loosely call “pets”.

Similarly, Lewis Carroll’s friend of Alice (in-Wonderland) who grins from tree branches or appears magically at her side, below right, brings an other-worldly take on what Americans loosely call “pets”.

I could go on, but then that would be straying from the subject—something my dear writing professor, pic below, would never do.

Feline-Canine Opposites: Everyday Revelation—Apart from the Obvious

One afterthought which hadn’t escaped me, but needed an Earthly anchor to make it relevant: just such a circumstance is currently happening—the recurrence after a gap of two centuries of inactivity (historic eruption 1984 after silence since 1881) of Moana Loa volcano (supposedly dormant) which threatens the ELT [extra-large telescope array internationally owned] at its peak.

Moana Loa is the world’s highest volcano, dominating Hawai’i Big Island’s northern horizon, affectionately known to locals as home of goddess Pele, calculated from the central Pacific Ocean floor at 13,678 feet. The 1984 eruption flattened the large housing community of Leilani Estates, pictured below left, which has never recovered.

Lava sputtered and shook the ELT just before Christmas 2022.

International vulcanologists are closely watching current lava flows alongside neighbour Mauna Kea that simultaneously joined the lava lake concerto with a crater lake of its own at Kilauea’s Halema’uma’u. A fresh crater lake popped a few corks last week—a fine beginning to 2023.

Feline Connection? or Just Another Random Writerly Aphorism

People can suffer the tragic loss of pets, should fate dictate the awful circumstance of accidental fire to their home—happens all the time in the U.S. of A. This is particularly relevant right now in Western states, given the unusual weather conditions of recent months, where houses are usually made of wood. [Eastern U.S., much of Europe, Great Britain and Eire favour stone buildings—e.g. Marischal College’s Rubislaw granite, top].

It is a sad but well-established fact known to American fire-fighters that, even if homeowners are not out dining or visiting neighbors when the event happens, owners have difficulty finding and rounding up (particularly little) dogs within the depth of a blaze—without being overcome by smoke and toxic fumes—therefore having to get out themselves. This is because dogs run towards the burning inferno, bark—bark—barking at the intruder as if to guard their space; resulting in intoxication and death.

Cats hate noise, [fireworks] disturbance of their comfort zone [Mewgi in situ among his sweet peas on his personal trolley, pic above bottom l., and, as a kitten, pic top of page under Bast-et far right kitty].

In a smoke-filled situation, they’ve got a particularly feline/sneaky means of finding an exit—even through rubble, chaos, disorientation, toxic fumes.

They use it as quickly as possible to get out of that alien environment. Hence, they’re survivors.

Steven King‘s marvellous Pet Sematary pic l., 1983 [deliberate misspelling as felines aren’t quite as masterful as human scribes in the spellcheck department] draws on the underlying theme of accidental disturbance of an ancient Native American burial ground, causing untold havoc to owners of puss (‘Church’-how typical of S.K. is that name)-a doctor & his family who just moved into their new house in Ludlow, Maine.

Mayhem ensues.

Puss/Church survives, of course, but the doc & his family ?

S.K.’s 1983 feline masterpiece [book cover, l.], has been adapted as a movie, with the camera bringing extra blood & gore to the screen for theatergoers.

Afterword to the Word-Wise

I love survivors.

With apologies to my fellow creative scribblers, journalists, insecure IWSGers, NanNoWriMo-ers and all who put pen to paper in their spare moments, because a writer never has one of those, unless cooking, cleaning or something else domestic needs attention: like cat crunchie treat time.

I know you understand! I couldn’t do a First Wednesday Blog in my generally chaotic but sortof regular style for circumstances alluded to above. Hoping you’ll forgive me, cos you’re all so good at wot you do.

This one—out of synch, out of rhythm, but hopefully not out of whack—will have to do.

Peace. And, until the next round, as they say in the gentle tones of Hawai’ian, while waving a [heavily-Brit-colonial-influenced flag, above bottom right]: Hau’oli Makahiki Hou! Happy New Year.

©2023 Marian C. Youngblood