Feline personalities

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ Leave a comment

All my cats have had different personalities. Some anxious and easily frightened, others unflappable. Some fond of interacting with people, others solitary and reserved. Some keen on hunting birds and rodents, others not interested. Some playful, others lazy. Different kittens in the same litter can display unique personality traits from birth.

Feline personality, like human personality, is determined partly by genetics and partly by environment. On the genetic side there are sex-specific traits, such as the male cat’s tendency to mark out a large territory and fight hard to defend it, though these and other differences are much reduced by desexing. Each pedigree breed is said to show characteristic features of personality, for example the Cat Fanciers’ Association describes the Russian Blue as “graceful, playful and quiet” and the Rag Doll as “docile, placid and affectionate”.  For domestic cats, there are possible links between personality and coat colour. Ginger cats have the reputation of being friendly and affectionate, black ones unlucky and mysterious, white ones aloof and enigmatic. There are many exceptions, and these associations may be based on myth and opinion rather than systematic research.

Felix was mainly black, with white on the paws, belly, chest, throat and face. He was therefore a good example of the “tuxedo” cat, sometimes called the “Jellicle” cat (Jellicle cats are black and white: T S Eliot). It is said that Newton, Shakespeare and Beethoven all kept cats of this type, and that they are highly intelligent, confident, sweet and affectionate, vocal, and rather lazy.

Felix’s personality did not fit this stereotype. He was an introverted cat, and not particularly intelligent, affectionate or vocal, but there was something very appealing about him. Unlike any other cats I have had, he was indifferent to most human beings but formed an exclusive bond with me. He pined when I went away on holiday, and could apparently be hard to handle on those occasions when I had to leave him in the veterinary hospital; one of the nurses told me “He’s a different cat when you’re here.”

I think the unusually strong attachment between us developed because he had come to me as a tiny kitten, after being separated from his mother far too soon. This shows that the feline personality is shaped by life experience as well as genetics. It can also change over time in response to circumstances. Few things are more rewarding than to see a cat (or any other animal) which has been neglected or abused, but then rescued and well cared for, being slowly transformed from a fearful or aggressive creature into one which is confident, loving and content.

 

Do cats go to heaven?

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 1 Comment

The Rainbow Bridge is the name of an anonymous poem, probably written in the 1980s but based on a much older myth. It describes a beautiful meadow for pets whose earthly life is over, where they play happily until their owners come to join them and they cross the bridge into heaven together. I don’t think I had read this poem when I had a dream about one of my other cats, Floella, a few years ago. In my dream she was flying over a deep valley before coming to rest in a beautiful meadow full of flowers, sitting upright and looking content. Remembering this was a great comfort when she died a few months later.

The following story was told to me by a trusted friend, so I can vouch that it is genuine. Here is a shortened version of the letter she sent me:

My cat was snow white, aristocratic, a prince among cats, fairly haughty. You had to deserve his respect and he was never cuddly. I loved his independence and obvious self-esteem. The only time he jumped into my lap and put his paws on my shoulders was when I was sitting in my kitchen, being deeply unhappy and at a loss what to do. He sensed it. At other times he didn’t allow anybody to pick him up.

Unfortunately he suffered from a genetic weakness which snow white cats sometimes have – he developed a terrible eczema all over his back. Our local vet was a saintly animal lover who did all he could to help, but nothing worked and my cat obviously suffered. Eventually it got so bad that the vet suggested euthanasia. I felt terrible, having to play God, but eventually, with enormous heartache, I agreed.

I then cried for a week. A friend suggested that I visit a deeply spiritual clairvoyant, to find some solace. So I went to see this lady and as I entered her beautiful drawing room, she said “Hello – that’s a beautiful white cat that came in with you!”

 So I cried some more. Yet at the same time I also felt comforted.

Companion animals sometimes feature in the personal accounts from survivors of near death experiences which can be found on the internet.

I continually picture Felix still around: patrolling the garden, sunning himself on the grass, curled up on a chair, purring when I pick him up. I think these images are wishful products of my own mind rather than of spiritual origin, but who can tell the difference? I do believe in metaphysical forces, and perhaps it is not a coincidence that, of the several hundred songs in my iTunes library, the first two which came up on the Shuffle function while I was thinking about Felix were Don’t Fear the Reaper and Time to Say Goodbye.

Coping with the loss of a cat

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 1 Comment

For animal lovers, grief over the loss of a much loved pet can be just as severe as that which follows a bereavement in their human families. I know this not only from my personal experience, but from what I have heard from friends and clients who are mourning the death of feline or canine companions. It is also backed up by published research. However, the death of a companion animal is not always recognised as the major trauma which it is often perceived to be. What can bereaved pet owners themselves, and those around them, do to ease the pain? This post outlines some things which I have found helpful since Felix died.

The support of family, friends and veterinary staff: I have been greatly comforted by all those who have sent a sympathetic email or card, brought flowers for his grave, or offered healing therapies. I expect there are some who cannot quite understand the depth of my sadness, but everyone has been kind, and noone has trivialised my loss with comments like “it was only a cat” or “you can always get another”.

A funeral ceremony and a marked grave: It felt right to hold a small ceremony for him, and to bury his body in a secluded part of the garden which I can visit every day – although, as one perceptive friend said “You’ll never be able to move house now.”

Expressing feelings through talking and writing: Many bereaved pet owners benefit from talking with an understanding person, whether in a formal counselling setting or in everyday life, and I have a number of friends with whom I have been able to talk about Felix. For me, writing is the best medium for self-expression. I initially created this blog just as a private site where I could store photographs of Felix, but writing about a few cat-related topics has proved quite therapeutic, and drawn a few messages of support from strangers round the world.

Happy memories: I remember many happy times with Felix. There were also some worrying ones, because he suffered several episodes of serious illness during his life, but I can honestly say that I always looked after him in the best way I could.

Other cats: I am glad there are other feline presences on our property. Our female cat, Daisy, seems quite pleased that Felix is no longer around and Homer, a male cat who officially belongs to me but decided to move next door, has been making more return visits here. It would be impossible to “replace” Felix and I have no wish to try, though maybe I will fall in love with another black-and-white kitten at the SPCA one day.

Bach flower remedies: I took Star of Bethlehem, which is the main remedy to be considered for shock or grief. Other remedies could be suitable in certain cases, for example Pine for owners who feel a sense of guilt or self-blame, or Sweet Chestnut for those in deep despair. Remedies from the Bach series can also be useful for treating emotional distress in animals themselves.

The passage of time: Life goes on, and though I will never forget Felix and always miss him, it is getting easier as the weeks go by.

A story about the long shadow of war

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ Leave a comment

I’m pleased to announce that the ebook version of my second novella Blue Moon for Bombers was published today. Set in England 2007, with flashbacks to the 1940s, the story explores the psychological aftermath of World War Two interwoven with a modern romance.

The ebook is available from Smashwords, Amazon Kindle and various online stores. Amazon also carries a paperback version, which readers outside America can probably buy more cheaply through other websites, for example Fishpond and The Book Depository for those of us here in New Zealand.

cover-with-wording

Here is a short excerpt from the opening chapter:

 

 

Chapter 1: Multiple pathology

“I killed him!”

“Please be quiet, you’re disturbing the other patients,” said Phyllida. She reached out to give her father a soothing pat on the hand, but with a violent jerk he moved his hand away, and shouted louder than ever “I killed him!”

“What are you talking about? Who have you killed?”

“Leo. Leo.”

“Who’s Leo?”

“I killed him!”

Phyllida did not know what to do or say. She rang the bell above the bed and while waiting for it to be answered she turned away to look through out the window at the rain steadily falling onto the sodden flowerbed outside the ward. She was greatly relieved when a nurse, a young woman with a bright and confident manner, came in and asked her to wait outside the room while they gave her father an injection.

The drug was obviously fast-acting, for when Phyllida went back in she found that the old man had stopped shouting, though he continued to mutter and groan as he tossed his head from side to side on the pillow. He did not seem aware of Phyllida’s presence, and she thought that perhaps it would be alright to go home.

On her way out of the ward she was waylaid by the nurse, whose name badge read SALLY. “Can you pop into the office for a minute?”

It was more like a command than a request and Phyllida obeyed, though with reluctance. She felt afraid that she might be held to blame for her father being such a difficult patient and making so much noise. She was also worried about driving home in the wet weather, about being late with preparing dinner for her husband Barney, and about the guests coming for the weekend, not to mention the fear that the somewhat forward young woman might mention genetic testing.

“I’m your Dad’s named nurse today, and I’ve been reading up on his case,” said Sally.

Phyllida winced on hearing her father referred to as “Dad”, for she never used that familiar term. She called him by his first name, Desmond, when she had to call him anything at all. Sally went on “It must be hard for you, seeing him so distressed. What’s it all about, do you know?”

“No, I’ve no idea,” said Phyllida.

“From what the night staff heard him saying we wondered if he served in the war at all?”

“Yes. He was in the Air Force.”

“What, a Spitfire pilot or something like that?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” said Phyllida.

“My boyfriend’s making a model Spitfire,” Sally told her.

Although Phyllida realised that the girl was only trying to put her at ease, she considered this remark somewhat unprofessional.“Really,” she said.

“Well, whatever,” said Sally. “There’s obviously some stuff from the war which is playing on your Dad’s mind. He’s been too confused to tell us what’s troubling him but I’d say he’s got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know really anything about his war service,” said Phyllida. “He never talked about that aspect of his past.”

If you enjoyed reading this, please help my marketing campaign by sharing this post with your contacts. Here again are the links to the Amazon and Smashwords sites.

Feline euthanasia – some personal reflections

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ Leave a comment

Euthanasia for cats, or other companion animals, is a complex and sensitive topic. I am not a veterinary professional, but my views are informed by my experience as a cat owner, and as a former medical doctor who has worked with many dying humans in hospices and cancer wards.

In an ideal world, I believe that euthanasia should be reserved for animals who have incurable conditions and whose symptoms cannot be adequately controlled. In the real world the wishes and practical circumstances of the owners play a large part in the decision, but these are not always aligned with the best interests of the animals themselves.

I suspect that many animals get euthanised too soon, or when they do not need to be. The owners may not have the motivation or practical resources to continue caring for them when they are sick, or they may find the situation so upsetting that they just want it brought to an end. Sadly, some animals who get euthanised are not sick at all, only unwanted or homeless.

Conversely, other animals are left to suffer too long because their owners have moral or religious objections to euthanasia, or cannot face the prospect of witnessing the process or feeling responsible for killing their beloved pets.

I hope I did not delay too long before making the big decision for Felix. I had accepted that he was not going to recover from his illness, whatever the diagnosis, but did not consider that in itself an adequate reason to euthanise him. Two other cats of ours had been euthanised in the past, and although I have no doubt it was the right decision in both their cases, I found it an agonising experience. I hoped that Felix would die naturally like another of our cats, Floella, who slowly and peacefully faded away at the age of almost nineteen years.

It did not work out quite like that. One morning, after Felix had been going quietly downhill for a week or so without apparently suffering, he began to show signs of distress. I felt it would be cruel to let this situation continue and arranged for him to be euthanised the next day, when the vet would be available for a home visit, for Felix hated being taken to the surgery. Meanwhile I had a sedative analgesic prescribed for him. Soon after I gave him the first dose he fell asleep, and died a few hours later. I was very thankful that he did not need to be formally euthanised. If the medication which was needed to relieve his pain and distress hastened his death a little, I consider that a blessing.

Another aspect of this topic to consider is the impact of euthanasia upon the staff who carry it out. They have to develop a certain emotional detachment in order to be able to do it at all, but it must still affect them at some level. I suspect this is one of the reasons why the suicide rate for veterinary surgeons is so high compared with that of the general population, and also higher than that of other healthcare professionals.

Only a minority of human patients with terminal illness say they would want euthanasia provided that their symptoms can be controlled, and with good palliative care they usually can be. Maybe the same is true for animals.

The older writer

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments

Young authors with the potential for a long future career, especially if they are photogenic or have an unusual background, are the ones most likely to find favour with agents and publishers. But many wellknown authors have continued to produce new work of a good standard in old age. I have just finished reading Angela Bull’s excellent biography of Noel Streatfeild (1895 – 1986), who wrote numerous books besides the famous children’s classic Ballet Shoes, and who published her last novel when she was in her mid-eighties. Other English women authors who continued writing in their later years include Agatha Christie (1890 – 1976), Iris Murdoch (1919 – 1999), and P. D. James (1920 – ) who is, I understand, currently working on another book at the age of ninety-four. There are many more examples.

A few successful authors did not seriously begin their writing career until late in life. For example Mary Wesley (1912 – 2002) wrote the first of her seven novels for adults when she was seventy-one. Her books were original, sexy and regarded as slightly shocking and several of them, including The Chamomile Lawn, became best sellers. As the saying goes “It’s never too late to become what you might have been.”

Creative writing is one of those skills which is often well preserved, and may even improve, as age advances but there is a limit. It has to be acknowledged that books written by older people are not always of top quality, and sometimes only accepted for publication on the strength of their authors’ previous reputations. Mary Wesley knew when it was time to stop, and wrote no more novels after she turned eighty-three. Other older authors, in contrast, have continued to publish more books after they are past their peak. Linguistic analysis of the later works of both Agatha Christie and Iris Murdoch reveals signs of cognitive decline: a limited vocabulary, a vagueness of expression, and the tendency to repetition. Does this mean they should have stopped writing? I don’t think so; even if the later books by these remarkable women are not quite so good as the earlier ones, they still display outstanding talent and are valued by many faithful fans.

Older writers do possess certain advantages. They have a wide life experience to draw upon for material. If they are free of work and family responsibilities, they have ample time to write. They are likely to be driven by a genuine love of writing and the wish to create a quality product, rather than by the slim hope of achieving fame and fortune.

I had reached my sixties by the time I began to revisit my childhood passion for writing fiction, and I hope to find enough inspiration to continue for a good few years yet. Having no desire to produce best-selling books, I write mainly for my own satisfaction, however I only consider the activity worthwhile if at least some people read and enjoy my work. My second novella Blue Moon for Bombers: a story of love, war and spirit has just been published; I will post an extract of the text and details of purchasing options on this blog next week.

Farewell to Felix

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 4 Comments

My beloved cat Felix died last week. This post is wriiten in his memory, with some reflections on love, loss and the euthanasia of companion animals.

I have had many cats in my life and loved them all but Felix was somehow special. He came to me as one of four kittens needing foster care when they were just a few weeks old. Most people would probably have seen him as just another ordinary black and white cat but for me, for some inexplicable reason, it was love at first sight  and I knew at once I wanted to adopt him permanently. The close bond between us was maintained throughout his life, though he was a self-contained cat who did not relate easily to most other humans or felines. He became a skilled rat-catcher.

Felix was nearly fourteen years old when he died – not a great age for a cat, and yet he did well to live as long as he did considering all the health challenges he experienced: separation from his mother at a very young age,  a near-fatal attack by a feral tom cat when he was a few weeks old, a bladder blockage and a separate bowel blockage. His final illness lasted several months, during which he manifested a puzzling range of different symptoms, and temporarily improved on courses of antibiotics and steroids. No definite diagnosis was ever made but it gradually became clear that he was not likely to recover.

When the vet first suggested euthanasia I said no, feeling that neither Felix nor I was ready for such a serious step. Another course of steroids brought a little improvement over the following week but then he declined again. Some cats hide away outside when they are near the end of life but Felix stayed at home and continued responding to my touch, walking from room to room, trying to eat a little, grooming his paws, and using his litter tray. He was clearly fading away but did not appear distressed, until the day came when I knew it was time to make the heart-breaking decision. I arranged for him to be euthanized at home next morning and meanwhile the kind vet gave me three vials of a sedative painkiller, Temgesic, to calm him until then.

After the first dose was given at 4 p.m. Felix fell into a peaceful sleep, and stayed asleep all evening in my office. At 10 p.m. I left him to get ready for bed, then lay down to read a book until his next dose was due. About 10.30 p.m. I remember feeling a strange wave of cold. When I went down to give to Felix his medication at 11 p.m. I found that he had died.  I was overcome with grief yet thankful that the euthanasia did not have to be carried out after all.

Next day we had a small ceremony for Felix, a dear friend sang “Ave Maria” for him, and we buried him in the grave which we had prepared in the corner under the plum tree where he used to lie. I continued crying for days, and still miss him so much, but it is getting easier and I am thankful for the time we spent together, the memories and photos. I would like to believe we will meet again in an afterlife but I don’t know if I do.

It is not always easy to tell when an animal is suffering and sometimes I wonder if I should have agreed to “put him out of his misery” earlier – but I sensed that, until the last day, he did not want to die. There is much debate about euthanasia for humans at present and there are certainly complex “pros and cons” around the topic. During my medical career I worked in a hospice for several years and it was my impression that only a minority of the patients there would have chosen euthanasia if it was offered – is the same true of sick animals? We cannot know. Sometimes there is no doubt that euthanasia is the best thing for the animal concerned. In other cases, rightly or wrongly, it is carried out more for the benefit of owners who either want to avoid the trouble and expense of caring for a sick pet, or who can no longer bear their emotional pain while watching nature take its course.

The art of writing a sequel

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 1 Comment

Although the logical and efficient way of writing a series of two or more books is to outline the content of each in advance, I don’t have enough foresight or organisational skills to use this method myself. In any case I would rather be free to go with the flow of inspiration than have to stick to a prearranged plan, and I imagine many other authors feel the same.

While I was working on my novella Carmen’s Roses the possibility of a sequel did not even occur to me. This was my first venture into independent fiction publishing and I found it a very positive experience, so much so that I went straight on to write a second novella, featuring different people and places. Now this is almost finished, and I am wondering – what next? Having already created quite a varied cast of characters with the first two books, it could be interesting to have their stories continue and interlink in a third, rather than starting afresh.

I realise, however, that writing a sequel can be a bit tricky (and a prequel probably even more so). Here are a few points to consider.

If there is even a faint possibility of a sequel to the novel you are currently writing, be careful not to tie up the loose ends too tightly. For example, if you killed a person off in the first book, it will be difficult to introduce that character again unless you can arrange a flashback, a spirit apparition or a resurrection from the dead.

When writing a sequel remember that some readers will not (yet) be familiar with your first book. But you want to encourage them to read it later. So, while you do need to give some background information to introduce the characters, beware of “spoilers”. For example, if the previous book contained a mystery, don’t reveal any clues to its solution.

Pay attention to continuity, especially if the dates of events or the ages of the characters have been specified anywhere in the text. It is a good idea to draw up a detailed timeline. Although many readers will not notice or care about minor factual discrepancies, it is preferable to get these details right.

Ideally each of the books will be self-contained, so they can be understood and enjoyed even if not read in chronological order.

If you have any other tips on sequel-writing technique, please leave a comment below.

What is the best length for a book?

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ Leave a comment

Like ‘How long is a piece of string?’ this is a question without a definitive answer.

Long books, with word counts around 200,000 or even more, seem to be in fashion lately. The last two winners of the Man Booker prize for fiction – Bring up the Bodies and The Luminaries – are both heavyweight tomes, as are many recent autobiographies.

For ebooks, too, it seems that bigger is better in the popularity stakes. In the latest analysis published through Smashwords.com, the best-selling length was calculated as 115,000 words.

I am personally out of synch with this trend because, both as a reader and a writer, I prefer something shorter. Although I truly admire authors who can write long books of good quality, I must admit that I often find it a challenge to finish them – I don’t have enough time or patience. And, to my mind, a great many long books are not of good quality because they contain far too much irrelevant detail and repetition, and would benefit from radical editing.

The average novel today apparently has between 80,000 and 100,000 words, whereas I remember from years ago that the average was around 70,000 which still seems to me a good length. The books by Agatha Christie, who ranks second only to William Shakespeare as the best-selling author of all time, were mostly between 50,000 and 70,000 words. However there has always been huge variation and many classics, such as War and Peace and Gone with the Wind, are long.

My own books seem to have grown shorter as I have grown older and Carmen’s Roses, at just over 30,000 words, is technically a ‘novella’ rather than a ‘novel’. A couple of readers have said they would have liked it to be longer, which I take as a compliment – I would rather have people wanting more than getting bored before the end, and one kind reviewer wrote ‘A short book but you don’t feel cheated’. My next fiction book, provisionally titled Blue Moon for Bombers, is also going to turn out around 30,000 words, so it would seem that the format which best suits my own current style is the novella.

Longer than a short story, but shorter than a novel, a novella is between about 20,000 and 40,000 words. Many well-known titles such as Death in Venice, Heart of Darkness and The Turn of the Screw are written in this concise and elegant format, which has been described by Ian McEwen as ‘the perfect form of prose fiction’.

So, even though the writers and readers of today seem to favour long books over short ones, there is a place for both. Unless you are writing for a publisher which sets specific requirements, I would suggest that instead of aiming for a predetermined word count it is best to make your novel whatever length is needed to tell the story.

Finally, a note for readers in New Zealand and Australia: the closing date for the Goodreads Giveaway of Carmen’s Roses is 29th June (U.S. time). To enter the draw for a free print copy click here.

 

 

Writing a book is like having a baby

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments

Although I am childless myself, I do realise that having a baby is a vastly more significant experience than writing a book. But it seems to me there are many parallels between the two processes, so I hope nobody will be offended by this light-hearted comparison between them.

The time it takes to write a book can vary from weeks to years, but I have heard that the average is about nine months – the same as a full-term pregnancy – though it is usually impossible to tell exactly when it began.

Just as many pregnancies never reach full term, many manuscripts are abandoned for various reasons before they are finished. Some come to a premature end, their writers so impatient to see them in print that they submit them for publication before they are fully formed, and usually have them rejected. Others become overdue because they are continually being revised in the quest for perfection.

Publication day, though hopefully less painful than labour, is  almost as exciting as giving birth!

Good care for mothers and babies both before and after the birth is important, and the same is true for writers and their books. Writers need to avoid the physical and mental health hazards associated with their occupation. And even if they do not enjoy marketing, they need to look after their published book if they want it to flourish.

Post-natal depression, linked to both hormonal and social changes, is fairly common among mothers who have recently given birth. And some writers feel low after finishing a book, though for different reasons. There is a sense of anticlimax and, in my own experience, the best treatment is starting to write another one.

However, inspiration does not come to order, and the equivalent of infertility is writer’s block.

Some people can cope perfectly well with having large families, but others produce more children than they can look after properly. Similarly, while some authors have enough talent and energy to be able to write a whole series of good quality books, others keep churning out new ones even though they have run out of original plots, settings and characters and become careless about composing their prose.

Lastly, just as the child eventually develops its own personality, becomes independent and in the natural course of events will survive longer than its parents, there comes a point when a book takes on a life of its own. You cannot predict or control the outcome but, just as your children will perpetuate some of your genes, your books will form part of your legacy.