Adrian, in one of his encouraging comments, reminded me that writing a novel is a long haul. Indeed. It’s not only temporal; it’s an emotional journey; a psychological journey; a sojourn through light and darkness. Writing A Lamentation of Swans is a sea voyage. The ship is drifting, surrounded by icebergs most of the time. (Goodness, I’m scaring myself.)
Okay let’s talk about the cats. Levy, whom I’ve dubbed Julius Levy in honor of Julius Caesar (Rome, my latest video infatuation via Netflix.) surprised me several nights ago. He’s not given to affection, spends most of his time lounging on his corner of the bed, ignoring me and Taffy. But recently one night, while I sat reading in bed, he curled up next to me and laid his head on my arm. Well that got my attention for a moment, and I realized those retching sounds I’d heard earlier were his–he’d thrown up on the kitchen floor. Poor kitty. He was seeking a bit of comfort, not to mention claiming–at last–a corner at the top of the bed. Anyway, he’s a sweet cat really–a gray tiger stripe, quite a pretty boy–but I’ve got to be careful with him ’cause he tends to bite and he likes to attack my ankles when I walk by. I’m beginning to look like I’ve been caught in a razor storm.
Taffy, on the other hand, is very affectionate and talkative. She doesn’t trust Julius Levy either, but they get along okay. A bit of patty paw goes on once in a while, and Julius Levy likes to stalk and chase her when she goes to her kitty box, but she gets him back by using both boxes with impunity. Many’s the time he’s wanted to use his box but Taffy’s sitting in it.
Oh good…the icebergs are distant now.