A Thought

Yesterday was once today

and Tomorrow soon will be.
Today is all that matters!

PUSSY WILLOW
I love cats, any cats; small cats, big cats, thin cats, fat
cats, skinny cats, toms and queens, kittens and adults, black,
white, or pussy willow like Taddy.
The Lady Ku'ei, one of my Cat Children, was very fond of
remarking to the Guv: `My Ma will stop and chat with any
old tom cat she may happen to meet: But she did not dis-
approve for Miss Ku'ei was no snob.
No doubt this little volume will receive its share of
criticism, but that is no cause for concern; it is written for
my friends . . . those people who have expressed an interest
in the Guv's Family. I am reminded of a quotation by the
Guv and, since it is heartily endorsed by me, I will use it
here:

‘Dogs bark, but the caravan

moves on . .
‘Critics usually are those
without the wits to write
a book’, but - they have
the acid to attempt the
destruction of a good book!'
 SATO? What’s That?
Well, a book has to have a title, eh?
So how about a ‘computer code’ version of what this is all
about?
It is...
Sindhi — and — the — others.

I love cats, any cats; small cats, big cats, thin cats, fat
cats, skinny cats, toms and queens, kittens and adults. Cats.
ANY cats.
The Lady Ku'ei one of my Cat Children, was very fond
of remarking to the Guv, ‘My Ma will stop and chat with
any old tom cat she may happen to meet up with’, but she
did not disapprove for Miss Ku'ei was no snob.
No doubt this little volume will receive its share of
criticism but that is no cause for concern . . . it is written
for my friends, those people who have expressed an interest
in the Guv's Family. I am reminded of a quotation by the
Guv and, since it is heartily endorsed by me, I will use it
here:
‘Dogs bark, but the caravan
moves on . . . ,
‘Critics usually are those
without the wits to write
a good book.’
 CHAPTER ONE
SINDHI is a cat, a Siamese cat, and although she is not
living on the earth now she is very much alive elsewhere. It
was one of the more positive acts of my life that I cared for
this little person during the very short time she was with us.
We had been in Canada a little over one year when we
met her, and she had a most charming way of getting
around one, of getting her own way. At her best she was
most affectionate, tucking her small head under my chin as I
held her, telling me in cat language that she loved me.
How did I find myself with a third cat person when there
were two Siamese people already quite well established in
the household? Well, really I had little choice in the matter
because a man who was employed in a pet shop asked if a
home could be found for her. He had heard about Miss Ku'ei
and Mrs. Fifi and he said he understood we were very fond
of cats, especially Siamese, and that we understood them. He
had a feeling that Sindhi was not happy and would we
please go and see her at his home where we could find his
wife, and talk to her. Since I have mentioned Ku'ei and Fifi,
and if you have read ‘Living with the Lama’, it will be appar-
ent who ‘we’ are. I am ‘Ma’ to cats, and I am proud of the
fact that Mrs. Greywhiskers paid me the great honor of
dedicating her book to me. The other one of ‘us’ is the ‘Guv’
to cats, and he was kind enough to translate the contents of
‘Living with the Lama’ from cat language into words which
could be understood by humans. Since cats make pictures
instead of words this must have entailed quite a bit of in-
genuity on the part of the Guv, and a good amount of co-
operation from Fifi.
At that time we had a fairly big car, a used one, otherwise

12
we would not have been driving around in a color com-
bination of pink and gold. It was rather like a woman wear-
ing a pink or a vivid red outfit — in a few days she would be
recognized a mile away. Each time we took out our pink
Mercury we could imagine everybody in the neighborhood
shrieking ‘Here they come! With their cat an’ all!’ It was the
very same automobile which nearly scared the daylights out
of Miss Ku’ei and me when the steering “went” one day while
we sped along the Tecumseh road towards Windsor. Ku'ei
was definitely the motoring type and whenever possible she
went with us, either shopping or sight-seeing, even when
we collected the mail from the post office at Walkerville,
near Windsor; hence the remarks ‘here they come with their
cat!’ As we drove along to the pet shop man's home I won-
dered what Ku'ei was thinking about it all, but then I de-
cided ‘sufficient unto the day—’ Eventually we found the
house and the Guv stayed in the car while I went to the door
and rang the bell while just at that moment Mrs. Pet shop
Man appeared in the entrance. As I discussed with her the
reason for our visit she seemed most relieved and told me
that her nerves were bad; the cat was getting her down and
she doubted if she could stand it any longer. A wailing noise
was coming from someplace inside, a voice which could
only be that of a Siamese, and then Sindhi appeared. A poor
thin little creature looking so pathetic, and no wonder, for
the woman had no doubt transmitted her nervous state to
the tiny bundle of fur standing there. ‘What can you do
about it?’ the woman queried of us; ‘I doubt if I could stand
it another night,’ she continued. ‘Can't you take her and find
her a home?’
By this time the Guv had approached and was taking con-
trol of the situation. He could see she was neurotic (a very
thin discontented individual) and she was imploring us to
take the cat, the cat who was so obviously very miserable.
What COULD WE DO? We had two mature Lady cats at
home who were getting along quite well together, so what
was going to happen if we came home with Sindhi? Quickly
we decided, and as soon as we had bundled ourselves into

13
the auto and Mrs. Pet shop had waved her gratitude, Sindhi,
who must have been about one year old, let out the most
piercing yowl. She told the world in general that she must
have a tom; so here we were, faced with another dilemma.
While she was in this condition it was impossible to take her
home to our apartment so we thought we had better make a
detour and call at the office of our friend, Mr. L. the veterin-
arian, hoping we would find him there. He had treated Fifi
and Ku'ei when the humidity of Windsor had caused dis-
comfort in their ears, and Ku'ei had had eye trouble also,
necessitating the removal of the inner eyelid which was be-
ginning to enlarge and soon would have covered the entire
eye. This was a phenomenon peculiar to the Windsor area
and, in our opinion, caused through excessive spraying of
insecticide all around the side streets where there were trees
and bushes, and which had been carried in the air on to the
plants and grass of our garden. The little cat nestled close to
me as we drove along, quiet for a while; then came another
piercing shriek, ‘I want a tom, I must have a tom!’ Poor little
girl cat; we found she had sight in only one eye and we
commented that she looked like Egyptian Nefertiti as she
also had one blind eye. Anyway, we took to the little
creature and we told her that soon she would be living with
us; soon she would be sharing our home.
Mr. L. was a charming person, one of the nicest veterin-
arians we have met, and we have come across quite a
number in our travels around Canada. He had a cat too, a
Siamese tom, so he was very interested in our Cat family.
The first time he visited us, when we lived near Tecumseh,
he arrived at the front door one evening where I met him
and took him into the living room where Ku'ei and Fifi were
awaiting his arrival. When he saw them he uttered a de-
lightful greeting, ‘Aren't they just living dolls’, and we
always remember that first meeting, while many times we
have used that selfsame expression in referring to certain
felines.
Well, fortunately Dr. L. was in his office when we arrived
and, after taking a look at her, decided Sindhi should be left

14
with him and she would be spayed that very day.
Fortunately it was the beginning of the day so we left her
and arranged to come back and collect her in the evening,
assuming her condition was satisfactory by the evening. It
seemed a rather different procedure from England, where a
cat would be left at the Pet Hospital for two nights (the night
previous and the night following the operation), in the case
of a female being spayed. A tom, by comparison, was treated
rather differently; his neutering operation, not being so
serious, could be done ‘while you wait’ type of thing. How-
ever, I took a little tom cat to the veterinarian here in
Calgary the other day, and his treatment was the reverse of
our previous experiences in this country. Smokey, an all-over
black cat, was our neighbor, and his so-called Mistress (who
was really his servant) was sick and therefore unable to take
him, so I volunteered. Smokey was to be kept for two nights,
as though he were a female, and it is interesting to see how
customs change, but the Westside Pet Hospital is a most
pleasant place where our own two felines are treated with
the utmost politeness and care by the doctors and staff. I
have often thought that so-called animals are treated with
greater care and respect by the ‘animal doctor’ than are
many human animals who are left to the mercy of certain
medicos.
Wherever we have lived it has been one of my earliest and
most pleasant duties to find a veterinarian, have our Cat
People meet him, and it has always paid off. The Cat is
checked over and, in the event she needs treatment at a later
date, well, she is not afraid because she has already been
introduced and (we hope) feels friendly towards her doctor;
therefore she knows what to expect. ‘A crazy idea’ someone
says, but is it really so strange? Considering a plant can
wither and die if approached by someone who is unsym-
pathetic (I have seen this happen quite recently in the case
of a sensitive plant), isn't it just as important, if not more so,
for your pet to be prepared in advance against the time he or
she may have need of professional services?
But to return to Windsor and to the events of almost a

15
decade and a half ago when we thanked our lucky stars that
we had such a wonderful ally in Dr. L. We returned home to
our apartment contented in the knowledge that Sindhi was
receiving expert attention, and with the assurance that we
would receive a telephone call; so now our thoughts turned
to the Cat Persons left at home, Miss Ku'ei and Mrs Fifi.
Naturally those two were eagerly waiting for the latest de-
velopments, though they were so highly telepathic that we
had little explaining to do. Often the Guv had said he always
knew when I would be returning if I had been out shopping,
or out on business, or something. He would know at least
five minutes before my return because Miss Ku'ei would
stretch, rise from her chair, walk around a bit, and then sit
by the door to wait for her Ma. When I made a short visit to
Canada, before we finally moved here from Ireland, I wore a
locket around my neck in which a clipping of Ku'ei's fur
was encased. This enabled her to keep in closer contact with
me telepathically, thus helping the Guv to know how I was
faring on the other side of the Atlantic. We could tell by
their manner that Ku and Feef half expected us to walk in
accompanied by some strange, unknown creature who they
would have to tolerate and teach. They sniffed around us,
did some thinking, and decided the best thing to do would be
to ‘wait and see’ and, if the worst should happen, well then,
true to their nature they would make the best of the situ-
ation. The day wore on; we waited anxiously by the tele-
phone, and around four o'clock came the welcome voice of
Mr. L. The operation had been successful, he told us; the
patient was resting as comfortably as could be expected,
having not long recovered from the anesthetic, and it
would be alright if we came around any time after five to
collect her. So, after five we drove off, getting caught in the
rush hour traffic, but at last we reached the Pet Hospital.
Sindhi looked wan and rather the worse for wear as she was
passed to me; and I placed a rug around her since Windsor
was quite chilly in March, then we went out to the car, after
being instructed to see that she did not tear her stitches out,
as another little girl cat did some years later. It was a little

16
after six o'clock when we arrived home and I took the
bundle of fur to my own room because we thought it better
to be on the safe side at first — the result could have been
unfortunate if she had been left with the others in her weak-
ened condition, and different surroundings. She took a little
fluid nourishment and I was very encouraged to notice she
seemed to show quite a liking for me. Later in the evening
we were to have a showing of photographic slides, in color.
We had a nice projector and a big screen, and we were to
view these (our latest) color pictures. . . . The Guv, you see,
is a superb photographer (he was actually complimented by
Kodak upon his beautiful pictures) and these were his latest
flower pictures, mostly close-ups, appearing much larger-
than-life in their effect. These many years later I can
remember vividly the glorious reproductions, looking
almost too perfect to be the real thing. That is something
else about the Guv, whatever he touches immediately
becomes ALIVE, never mind whether it be an automobile, a
radio, or a camera. It gives me great joy to be able to write
about some of the things which he has done, things which
made a deep impression upon me but which are so ordinary
to him that he would not think there was anything unusual
in what he was doing. In some of these transparencies, close-
ups of flowers, which at that time were providing us with
great interest and which we found most educational, there
was an atmosphere of the ethereal, and without actually
being there and seeing for yourself it would be difficult to
believe how many faces and little fairy-like figures were
portrayed within these various hued petals. Fairies! Nature
spirits! A figment of the imagination? Whatever they were
they fitted the accepted idea of how fairies and nature spirits
would appear, those little people who tend the growth of
plants and flowers, and who are frequently observed by
clairvoyants. During the filming I had to hold Sindhi on my
lap, with a little rug underneath her, for she still felt rather
unsure in the different surroundings and we wanted to show
her quite clearly that she really was wanted. Ku'ei and Fifi
were ‘somewhere’, receiving impressions, because they

17
could know exactly what was going on without actually
watching the screen. Sindhi was snoozing and completely
relaxed in the knowledge that at last she was home and
wanted. One thing which seemed to interest her was the tall
person who was helping with the projector; the tall person
with golden hair, the blue eyes and the graceful movements
Probably she considered she and the tall person were nearer
the same age than either of them were with the other
members of the Family. If she had not already done so she
would soon find out that it was permissible to refer to the
blue-eyed, golden haired person as ‘Buttercup’, and that it
was in order to address her thus. Mrs. Greywhiskers, Fifi,
had been responsible for this name; she had considered it to
be most appropriate and, as everyone in the family ap-
proved, it had come to be generally accepted. If you have
read Fifi's book, ‘Living with the Lama’, by T. Lobsang
Rampa, you will have learned a good deal about Buttercup
and her activities. . . . Oh, yes, Sindhi would be briefed as to
how she was expected to behave, and told what humans
expected of her because Fifi, with Ku'ei's approval, was very
orderly. She believed in firm discipline, coupled with kind-
ness and compassion (the latter was something she had
missed for the whole of her life until she came to us about
two years previously), and she always tried to avoid causing
unnecessary work for those who looked after her needs,
these persons being Buttercup and myself. In those two
years that she had lived with us we were accepted as her
Real Family, and ours was her True Home. Being without
sight it was fortunate that Miss Ku'ei enjoyed guiding her
around the rooms until Fifi had become familiarized with all
the objects such as tables, chairs, and other furniture which
might be hazardous to a blind, elderly cat person. Now we
would have to see how we would all manage with a sightless
woman cat and a half-sighted girl cat.
What a responsibility for the Lady Ku'ei!

18
. CHAPTER TWO

‘I THINK it's about time we moved away from here,’ an-

nounced the Guv when he came home one afternoon, soon
after Sindhi's arrival. ‘For heaven's sake,’ I answered, ‘we
haven't been here very long, and anyhow where were you
thinking of moving to?’ We talked it over and decided we
didn't have much choice in the matter since we were being
troubled by press reporters, and we were gradually losing
the privacy we had looked for when we came to Canada. It
was only a little over twelve months since we arrived in the
Windsor area and at first it had been quite enjoyable. We
had lived for a few months in a furnished house near Tecum-
seh, on the edge of Lake St. Clair, and during that period we
were left in peace. All that bothered us was the extreme cold
as we had arrived in midwinter, an extremely severe winter
it turned out to be too. The day after we arrived we walked
down to the frozen lake, taking Miss Ku'ei, wrapped in a
rug; but we had to hurry home because we had not become
acclimatized to the change from Ireland, where it was never
too ‘freezing’ by the salt water of the Irish sea, which we
had just left. We found it almost impossible to go out walk-
ing at all, even to the store a little way down the road — a
little store by the name of Stop'n Shop. Poor Buttercup spent
a few of the most miserable weeks of her life feeling per-
petually chilled, so we decided to be sensible and stay in, or
use the second-hand car which we purchased soon after our
arrival. It was impossible to manage without an automobile
because in that area, in those days, there were no deliveries
of supplies and we needed to make daily trips to the post
office. By the time we moved to the Windsor district, some
miles from our previous home, winter had passed and we

19
enjoyed the warm April days; and there was an added at-
traction when the lakers and seagoing vessels started moving
along the Detroit river, a sight which provided much
interest and enjoyment. It was quite exciting to have the
Queen pass right in front of our house, too, following the
opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway. She was on the way to
Chicago and we had a wonderful view from our balcony,
and the Guv took some interesting pictures through a tele-
scope, one of a helicopter which hovered overhead, and the
effect was just as though you were standing right beside the
craft. The Queen might have been paying us a personal
visit, everything seemed so close. We took many pictures in
those days, and it was simple when one had a car for we
could tour around looking for pictorial scenes. I used to
have a 35 mm. camera but since we do not travel around
very much these days my interest in photography has
suffered. I remember taking some wintry scenes across the
Detroit river, when it was covered with ice, and when the
slides were shown they looked quite artistic — the frozen
river, the leafless trees, and the Detroit skyline in the back-
ground. So, by the time spring 1960 came around we had
spent about one year in that particular house. It was a con-
venient location in many ways, especially for shopping and
post office facilities. We had garage space for which we
were grateful considering the severe winters we had to
endure. Apart from reporters coming around, life was quite
pleasant. Since we were ‘New Canadians’ and were not used
to the ways of ‘Old Canadians’ there was one incident which
ruffled us somewhat. It was our first Halloween in this
country and on the following morning we noticed the
garden gate was missing. When we telephoned the police to
report the incident we were somewhat surprised to be told,
‘you should be thankful you didn't lose the roof’. There must
be something very harmonious in the particular area where
we lived for, on many mornings, around five o'clock and
before the heavy traffic came along to assault our ears, one
could hear very pleasant music — apparently coming from
the river. It was most interesting and we enjoyed it im-

20
mensely. Another unusual phenomenon to recollect, and I
will not be alarmed if someone should label me ‘screwy’ or
of too vivid an imagination, but this was a very interesting
sight. At certain times there could be seen shadowy figures,
tall figures, moving about in front of the Detroit sky-
scrapers, but nearer the river. I often wondered about them
and then I ventured to mention the matter to the Guv who
sees many things which escape the senses of most of us. He
merely remarked, ‘Well, what of it, it is merely people going
about their business in another dimension.’ Well, after a re-
porter had waylaid the Guv while he was taking a leisurely
drive by the river, telling the Guv: ‘I know who you are and I
am going to write an article about you for the local news-
paper’, we knew that there would be little peace left for us
in that location. The Guv was right when he came home and
told us, ‘It is time we moved away from here.’ The problem
was, where to go? ‘How about Vancouver?’ someone said,
and it sounded good. Certainly the climate should be more
suitable for us, and we had been told that Vancouver Island
was very much like England except it was warmer and there
was less rain than in England. But how could we take a
chance and move unless someone could go first, just for a
visit, to see if it really was the place for us! After some
discussion the Guv said he would go himself because it was
easier for him to do that than take charge of three Siamese
lady cats. Also, he knew I did not enjoy traveling, and he
always got a bit worried on the few occasions I had to be
away. Sometimes, he says, just at the moment when I should
be watching for traffic, my mind wanders, making it a full-
time job keeping a mental check on me. Well, Buttercup
kindly offered to go along because she does not mind travel-
ling, and she knew someone should be with the Guv for even
in those days his health was very poor.
All of our mental processes were stepped up into high
gear because making the arrangements and getting every-
thing ready would be a joint effort. This was going to be
quite a journey as far as our little Family was concerned
because we did not enjoy being separated at any time, never

21
mind this long journey over so many miles. Even if planes do
these flights in just a few hours from one continent to
another, and the whole length of our own continent, it is
still a considerable distance, and if you are not used to
traveling, well it can be a little worrying wondering if all
will be well. So the air tickets were obtained, suitcases were
packed, and the travelers departed; and I remember it was
just one week before Easter.
Fifi and Ku'ei must have had many discussions about their
responsibilities during the week ahead for this mission could
not be accomplished satisfactorily in less than perhaps five
days. There would be no sense in turning round immediately
on arrival and heading home too quickly; that would ac-
complish nothing. Of course the three hours difference in
time was an advantage. At any rate, these two veteran cats
must have decided between them that they would be able to
deal with the situation since it couldn't be any worse than
the period a few months earlier when they had a MONKEY
to cope with. That had certainly been an experience for the
whole Family. At first we felt a bit lonesome when all at
once we realized the others had left, but then we decided we
had better get on with the process of day-to-day living. It
was a good feeling, very satisfying to have these three
creatures entrusted to my care for a few days. At the same
time it was not without a slight feeling of apprehension be-
cause it was the first time I had stayed alone since the advent
of the ‘littlest cat’ as we sometimes referred to Sindhi. It had
been simple in the case of Fifi and Ku'ei only; we had always
survived without any major incidents for short periods, but
they always preferred to have the Guv around as much as
possible.
Things had not progressed too smoothly during the past
few weeks, and during that time we had to experiment a
little. For almost two years Fifi and Ku'ei had lived together
amicably, even if Ku'ei had been known to mutter occasion-
ally (in fun of course), ‘I wonder if I was wise in having that
old biddy to live with me; after all it does take away some of
the attention from me.’ For a Siamese that was probably

22
quite a natural way of viewing things for they thrive on
adulation and they couldn't survive without constant
loving care and a sincere and definite interest in their well-
being. Very recently I heard of someone in this city who had
a pair of these creatures and, unfortunately, she was obliged
to go out to earn a living. Due to the lack of attention this
person was able to provide in that they had to stay alone for
periods much too long, she lost first one of her pets and soon
afterwards the other one passed on. To some extent all cats
suffer through being left too long by their so-called owners;
they cannot stand appearing to be neglected, and this is es-
pecially true of the Siamese.
Sindhi needed and demanded attention, and being much
younger than the others (barely more than a kitten) she
wanted more ACTION and fun and this gave us cause for
concern. While Miss Ku could easily skip out of the way, it
was more difficult for Fifi who was not able to see which
way to go to avoid the Baby Cat; but Sindhi, too, with sight
in only one eye must have had her problems in direction
finding. One just needs to put one's hand over one eye to
realize how difficult monocular sight can be, how severely
handicapped one is in gauging movements and judging dis-
tances.

23
 CHAPTER THREE

It was obvious that Fifi and Ku'ei were becoming nervous,

never knowing if they would be left in peace for awhile, and
therefore the whole matter had to be given serious con-
sideration. First of all we allowed Sindhi to go to someone
else; but this was not satisfactory so she had to return to my
care. She had quite definitely adopted me, and so the Sindhi
problem became my responsibility. During the daytime it
was not too difficult since we had a sunroom, with a door,
where the Baby Cat spent a good deal of time sleeping and
sunning herself. As she washed herself, and the sun's rays
fell on her fur, she was able to provide herself with a good
supply of vitamins. It was a nice pleasant room, the same
room Mr. Monkey had occupied, but in the summer months
it was almost too pleasant in that it faced south and the
temperature could become quite uncomfortable by midday
and in the afternoons. At night, as bedtime approached, it
was a rather different situation: Fifi and Ku'ei had been
accustomed to spending the nights each in their own chair
by the side of my bed, with Ku'ei spending long periods right
beside me, on the bed. My bedroom door would be left open
and they would wander in and out at will, for cats enjoy
nocturnal wanderings as everybody knows. Ku'ei had always
been MY cat, while Fifi had taken on the responsibility of
the Guv's welfare, but now that we had Sindhi she seemed to
need my wholehearted attention, with no interference from
the others. She felt so insecure (as could be expected con-
sidering her early-life experiences), and she wondered (all
the time being afraid) whether her new position as my
‘Baby’ was in jeopardy. She considered that her place was by
me, on the bed, and that there should be no competition

24
from anyone, cat or human, especially cat. This was a very
difficult situation, particularly for the one who had been so
close to me for around seven or eight years, and it was to her
everlasting credit that Miss Ku'ei handled the situation
superbly, giving way to Sindhi continually. Ku'ei's life had
not been an easy one; she had shared our many adversities,
and comforted us in our moments of sadness. As a kitten she
had had a sister (Su Wei) who lived for only a few months, a
victim of the dreaded disease ‘feline gastro-enteritis’. After
that sad episode we became closer in our understanding of
each other; and it was a moment of great joy when she
found another companion in Mrs. Fifi a few years later. By
the time Sindhi came on the scene the others had been
together about two years. The name Ku'ei signifies ‘in
memory of the one who went before’; and she had come to
me at a time when I was suffering from the loss of a beauti-
ful silver tabby who, at age eleven, succumbed to an attack
of pneumonia. The Guv had named Miss Ku'ei and it suited
her very well. It was such a suitable and, I thought, ‘de-
lightful’ name, and it has been used by many other felines
who desired to be named after her. Altogether I owe a
great deal to Cat People in general, and especially to those
who have been my companions, both in my sad and happy
moments. When I would take a bath in the evenings I was
full of apprehension lest a fight develop (or at least a fierce
argument) while I, the sergeant major to cats, was otherwise
occupied. I solved the problem by taking Sindhi to the bath-
room with me, and it turned out to be a beautiful idea for
we had a lot of fun. First she would sit on the edge of the
bath watching me, and when I had finished and the nice hot
water had flowed away, Sindhi would hop into the empty
bathtub and roll around enjoying the warmth and the
smoothness of the tub. In the end it was a problem to get her
to come out of the bathroom. When Ku'ei was a kitten she
had enjoyed waiting for me while I took my bath; but she
had never gone further than the edge of the tub.
After a day had passed there was a telephone call from
Vancouver to let us know the other part of the Family had

25
reached their destination and that they were eager to know
how we at home were faring. On the few occasions the Guv
has been away from home he has always tried to talk to me
directly, but he has great difficulty since it causes him much
strain to ‘tune in’ to the mechanical device and decipher
what the other person is saying over the phone. Anyone
who has visited him has expressed great surprise that he
could understand what they were saying since they were
given to understand he is quite deaf, and then it would be
explained that he uses lip reading a great deal, otherwise it
would be too difficult to carry on a conversation. Once he
has become familiar with a person's wavelength, when the
person visualizes their message, as well as speaking the
words, then he can deal with the telephone. On this par-
ticular occasion the line was clear, so after a greeting from
Buttercup we heard the Guv saying, ‘Hello Ra-ab, how are
you and the cat children?’ All the little people had gathered
around me silently, sensing the Guv was not too far away
after all, when they could hear his voice. As he inquired
about each one separately the ears would fluctuate so that
she might enjoy the greeting to the full. Whenever he was
away he always made a point of inquiring about everyone
and everything because he wanted to know exactly what
was happening so that he might keep a mental check on the
situation. He always told me never to hesitate in letting him
know if I should run into a problem, never mind whether it
would be in the middle of the night, whenever he was away
from home. He told us there had not been time to tour the
various districts of Vancouver but we would be given all
details when they returned at the end of the week. The cats
settled down after we had said goodbye, and commenced
washing themselves in preparation for a long discussion
about Vancouver and the Guv. I understand that cats believe
in the maxim, ‘When in doubt, start washing’. The Guv says
they indulge in serious conversation while appearing to be
merely engaged in a routine toilet operation.
It was surprising how the time passed by, and soon we
were preparing for the traveler’s return. We had done a little

26
reading, listened to the radio, and had our moments of fun
playing with plastic balls, ping pong balls, and chasing a
long piece of string. Our little radio (a plastic one) was
molded in the shape of a handbag, and we listened to
stations from Detroit, as well as from Windsor. We could
have the stations fairly loud since we would not be dis-
turbing anyone, and I always marveled at the speed with
which the Detroit announcers and news readers spilled out
the words. I can usually follow a rapid speaker, but these
boys were the fastest talkers I had ever heard. At night in
our room we kept the volume down when everyone was
home, but it was rather a strain, especially when we wanted
to listen to music, and they did have good concerts from
Detroit. When I had mentioned to the Guv that I wished
there was provision for private listening, it was no sooner
said than done. The necessary parts were obtained and
presto — we had a plug and socket all fixed up. After that
there was no limit to the volume, unless we reached the
point of distortion when, of course, we turned it down. I did
the turning down, the tuning and changing of stations, even
though Sindhi might well have done it for me, for she did
some interesting things. We had a carriage clock and she had
a habit of reaching up to the shelf where it stood, and she
would touch the repeater button because she enjoyed hear-
ing the clock striking. No doubt she would have found the
radio controls a little more difficult to operate. Until that
time I did not know that if I left the private listening device
plugged in to the radio it would run down my batteries,
whether the radio was switched on or not. Since I was told
about it I have always taken out the plug after switching off
the radio. Something else I learned was that unused bat-
teries, that is new batteries, should be kept side-by-side, and
the exposed metal parts should not be allowed to come
together and make contact, otherwise they would run them-
selves down. This cannot possibly be well-known con-
sidering the number of times a store has handed me a
package of batteries all jumbled together. Sometimes I have
wished I knew something of basic electronics, but at least

27
am now able to test my own batteries with a small device
given to me by the Guv. It is a handy little instrument and I
feel quite important when I am asked to test the batteries for
someone else's radio.
But to return to my responsibilities of caring for the home
and my trio of felines. At that time we had a neighbor who
was living temporarily in the lower part of the house, and
on the few occasions when she, or we, needed a little
change, she would come up and chat with me while we took
a cup of tea together. The cats enjoyed having an occasional
visitor and she was an interesting person, an avid photogra-
pher, and very interested in oil painting. Her name was artis-
tic sounding too — she was called ‘Flora’, and she was a small
person physically. Although I had a very good idea of the
needs of my Cat children, I still could not communicate with
them as clearly as with another human; so I enjoyed this
little diversion which left me feeling refreshed. On occasion
though I may have remarked that one of the cats may be
needing something, and the Guv has replied, ‘Well that is
exactly what she is saying.’ Fortunately there were two nice
people living in the house next to ours: two sisters, who
were teachers, and their Family had been amongst the early
settlers in Canada (they had emigrated from France). They
owned their house, and ours also, and I could always call
upon them in an emergency. They had another home in
Amherstburg, a beautiful cottage, which they had built
some years earlier, and they loved to spend their summer
vacations in that cottage in Amherstburg. Although we did
not see much of them we did meet occasionally in the
garage, which we shared, where we chatted for awhile. But
being teachers they were away most of the day, and often
on weekends they took off for the cottage. Sometimes they
would take a peek over the dividing wall of our gardens and
they would admire Ku'ei and Fifi who loved to sit on the
grass down there, and eat some of it if they were in the mood.
Fifi took some watching in those days for she would walk
around and out through the garden gate, not realizing she
was ‘out of bounds’; or perhaps she wanted to have some fun

28
with me. As soon as I found she was missing I hurried along
the alleyway to get her and bring her back into the garden.
For an elderly lady cat she certainly did move quickly; but
we had a happy time that first summer on Riverside Drive.
Now it was the spring of another year and we were feeling
very happy in the knowledge that soon our Family would
all be together again. With the best will and the greatest
effort we all became just a little bored. The Cat people liked
to have the Family around, being busy, thus giving them-
selves an interest in following our activities. So, on the
Friday, which happened to be Good Friday (towards the end
of April), we had a big family reunion when the others re-
turned. We talked about Vancouver, which seemed a nice
enough place, and the Guv wanted to know all about how
we had managed at home; and he spoke to each Cat person
separately. Unfortunately Buttercup felt sick when she ar-
rived, but after having a rest she quickly recovered.
I received a very nice gift of a book entitled ‘The Cat’,
which was written by a veterinarian. It was inscribed ‘To
the Ma of all the Cats’ and, although the writing closely
resembled the Guv's, it was ‘from Sindhi Blue Eyes’. It is still
one of my greatest treasures and whenever I take it from the
bookshelf I feel that Sindhi is close by.

29
 CHAPTER FOUR

So life continued on with many things just the same as

ever, and we found that to live one day at a time was the
best way to survive; but we had to make a few adjustments
it seemed. Previously Miss Ku'ei had always accompanied
the Guv and me when we took the car to collect the mail
each morning, except on the high humidity, hot stifling days
when even she couldn't enjoy it and would stay at home
with Fifi. Now we realized we could not leave Sindhi alone
with Fifi because we could not be sure that the little cat
would not harass Fifi — and that we would not tolerate. The
only thing to do then was to leave Miss Ku'ei with Mrs. Fifi
for company, and take the Baby Cat with us. Fifi did not
enjoy traveling since her life had been too full of it, but for
Ku'ei it would be quite a sacrifice to forfeit her morning's
drive. It had made her unhappy on those days when the
humid heat proved too much for anyone who was unable to
shed her fur coat, but Ku'ei was a most understanding
person. Sindhi would sit in the car with the Guv while I
went into the Walkerville Post Office to collect the mail, and
then we would take her for a drive around the streets before
returning home. The Guv used to say that if someone ap-
proached the car while they were waiting for me she would
become quite fierce, telling them in colorful language what
she thought of them. He was most concerned because an
untrained Siamese can be quite frightening and he didn't
know what to do about the situation. In this case there
seemed to be more to it than simply an untrained Siamese
since, when she was free of her ‘attacks’ she was the sweet-
est little person one could hope to meet. She was given every
consideration and understanding, and the Guv never spared

30
himself in trying to fathom the cause of her apparent un-
happiness and unpredictability. We debated whether the
difficulty could in some way be connected with her blind-
ness of one eye. Was there some damage? And what had
caused the eye problem anyway? There was no mistaking
the fact that something was very wrong, and there was a
definite need for constant supervision. Therefore, I con-
tinued to devote more and more time to her needs, and I
tried to show her that being difficult did not help at all.
By this time the Guv had started to write another book,
which meant controlling the Cat People more than ever,
especially the little one. So, as I had to devote much time in
the role of Cat Guard, I decided to put some of my thoughts
and experiences down on paper. I brought out the type-
writer and with a big feeling of hope and an idea of achieve-
ing something, I decided that if my charges behaved
themselves, and if there were not too many diversions, I
might possibly end up with something in the way of an
acceptable story. I made notes about the Guv; how we had
been together for about thirteen years and how the number
thirteen had cropped up so often, especially in the years
since we had been associated with each other. And then it
came to my mind about the Dalai Lama of Tibet, the ‘Great
Thirteenth’ about whom I had read and heard so much. He
who was acknowledged to be the last Incarnation of the
Dalai Lamas, the fourteenth having publicly proclaimed
that he was not an incarnation. My story was going to be
full of interesting things, to me at any rate, and hopefully to
a few other people. I would have a lot to say about Ku'ei
who had come to me in a time of great stress, and when just
a few weeks old had sat on my shoulder while together we
read a beautiful cat story called ‘The Cat who went to
Heaven’; a delightfully illustrated book all about a little cat
who had such a happy experience that it was more than she
could contain, and she went straight to Heaven. Un-
fortunately that book is most likely out of print now. If only
I could get all my ideas organized and set out clearly in my
mind, then I would be in business.

31
 Some time earlier I had been given to understand that a
publisher would be pleased to consider a manuscript if I
gave it a ‘fairly strong occult flavor’. However, it was not
to be since I had not felt qualified to write upon the occult,
though I was not without experiences in this direction, and
the moment had passed.
When I had put together a few pages of notes my Cat
Guard duties were less quiet because the Guv had finished
his book, but I enjoyed the relaxation it provided for it was
a long time since I had done any writing. For a change, and
because I had the urge to do so, I had enjoyed a period of
studying handwriting instead of concentrating on writing
myself. I found this to be a most fascinating science and I
met some interesting people, in the business world and in
private, and I saw some most interesting handwriting speci-
mens. The other day we were talking about spontaneous
impressions etcetera and the Guv said that if he was to alter
something after the first writing it was never as good as his
first effort. I remarked that a number of times I had written
down passages as they had occurred to me, and experiences
just as they had come into my head at odd moments, when I
felt ‘inspired’, but that usually I just threw the pages away. I
said I didn't see any use in keeping them for who would be
interested in them anyway? Buttercup suggested it was fool-
ish to destroy something you write for it is in those
moments of inspiration that one captures something which,
if not kept, could be lost forever. The Guv maintains that
writing is perhaps one per cent inspiration and the remain-
ing ninety-nine per cent perspiration — in other words, plain
hard work. While the Guv had been writing his book, which
was all planned in advance and just needed transmitting to
paper, he was thinking of the future. Vancouver would have
suited us he said, but how to get there! We would not be
allowed to have the cats with us in the cabin if we traveled
by air; or in the compartment if we contemplated a train
journey; and it was too far by road. I have often wondered
why one cannot take a cat, or any pet, in a private room on

32
a train in Canada, even though one can do so in the United
States. I have traveled from Canada to New York and from
New York to Canada with one or two cats in an ordinary
sleeping compartment, on an American train, without any
trouble at all. Perhaps we Canadians are somewhat neurotic
blaming cats for causing our hay fever, various allergies, and
nervous disorders, when a good part of it is imagination — all
in our heads. We have made many inquiries about these
rules and were told by the authorities that at one time pets
WERE allowed on Canadian trains, especially if one
traveled in a private sitting room or bedroom. However, the
public objected and the practice was discontinued. If it was
within my power to have those rules changed I most cer-
tainly would, thus avoiding much discomfort and actual
misery for many pets.
We were agreed upon one thing and that was to find
another place to live; then someone thought of Fort Erie
which was a rather convenient journey and not too far to
travel. It would take about four hours by rail, with no
changes. Once more it would mean someone going first to
see what it was really like, this place situated at one end of
the Niagara Parkway, close to the Peace Bridge, linking
Canada to the United States. The Guv decided to take a look
at the district and he said it would be quite suitable but
decidedly smaller than Windsor, with a population of
around nine thousand. It seemed to be a flourishing little
community. We thought that a complete change might
result in an improvement in Sindhi's attitude, and we sin-
cerely hoped it would have this effect. The main problem
was that Fort Erie, like many places, had an accommodation
shortage and we were unable to find a house or an apart-
ment. I was finding it more and more difficult to cope with
the feline problem as, sometimes when I was alone with
Sindhi in my room she would become excited and start
to struggle in my arms. It seemed that whenever she became
excited something beyond her control happened and she
would become very difficult to handle. Often I had to leave

33
her in the room alone, closing the door, and find myself
another place to stay for the remainder of the night — often
on the divan in the living room, with Ku'ei and Fifi.
We had arranged to have a Fort Erie newspaper sent to us
so that we might follow the advertisements for accommo-
dations because there were so very few vacancies that it was
rarely they were ever referred to a real estate office. One day
I was half-heartedly looking over the advertisement page
when I noticed ‘House for Rent or Sale’, so my interest was
aroused and it was only a matter of seconds before I was on
the telephone to the advertiser, and soon I was in possession
of the essential details. It seemed this dwelling was situated
about three miles from Fort Erie and about sixteen miles
from Niagara Falls, and set in its own grounds — part of
which was reserved for summer cabins and holiday-makers.
It seemed to be just what we needed and the owner, Mrs. C.,
said there were lots of trees and she was sure the whole
place would appeal to us. The house had been, and still was
being used as an office from which Mrs. C ran the cabins;
but the season would be over by the end of August and the
house would be available at any time in September.
This meant another journey to view the premises, and
another discussion as to who would go to see the place. I
offered to make the journey this time, but I had to consider
the ‘Little Cat’. Since out neighbor, Flora, owned a car, and
as she would have some time to spare on the weekend, I said
‘How about me taking Sindhi along?’. Everyone appeared
rather taken aback but I could not have gone away with a
clear conscience if I had to leave her behind for I should
have been worried to death wondering what she was up to.
Some people can just take off, leaving behind all their prob-
lems, and they seem to be none the worse for it; but I have to
stay home or take my problems with me. It is not that I
think other people cannot manage, but if I decide to under-
take a venture I have to see it through, and Sindhi was my
‘venture’.
I left a note under Flora's door asking her to telephone me
when she returned from the office so that I might approach

34
her with my idea. Fortunately the proposal met with her
approval. Actually, she said she would enjoy the outing she
was sure, and so we went ahead with our plans. The Guv
was somewhat concerned about Sindhi undertaking such a
long journey, as I knew he would be, but it was obvious that
either she would accompany me or I would not be able to
go.
We planned the undertaking for the weekend since Flora
had to be at the office during the week, so we arranged to
start out on the Saturday and return on Sunday. We fitted
the car out comfortably, and Sindhi would sit in the rear
seat beside me with her traveling basket, a nice warm
blanket, and a tray for her other needs of nature. Food was
provided also because she would need that on arrival, if not
before, since cats often will not take food while traveling.
Their metabolism seems to undergo a change and they do
not seem to feel the need for anything until they reach their
destination and after they have got themselves settled. Dom-
estic cats take about three days to settle down, to get their
bearings and become orientated; and until they do get settled
they suffer, so that is a good reason for keeping a cat indoors
for at least three days after moving. If he or she gets outside
of their new home, they just cannot find their way back
because they have not become re-orientated.

35
 CHAPTER FIVE

THE car had been washed and polished and was all ready
and waiting for the three of us. The oil had been checked,
the gas tank was full, and on this beautiful summer morning
Sindhi and I were all ready, and we would call for Flora on
the way downstairs. We bade the Family goodbye, with a
hug for Fifi and Ku'ei, and reassurance from Buttercup that
everything at home would be well looked after so there was
no need for me to feel concern. A special message from the
Guv who admonished us to be very careful and not to drive
too fast. He patted Sindhi affectionately, telling her to be a
good girl cat and that he would be missing her but that Ma
would take good care of her he was sure. I had to admit
(privately) that perhaps I had ‘bitten off rather more than I
could chew’ in undertaking this trip (two hundred and sixty
miles each way, and parts of the highway were not in too
good a condition). However, it was too late to change my
mind — the only thing to do was to go ahead and make the
best of the situation.
Flora settled herself in the driver's seat and I sat with
Sindhi in the back of the car. Since we were starting early
we were not hampered by other traffic on the road. There-
fore, we relaxed and enjoyed the scenery and unpolluted
morning air, and it never crossed my mind that I would be
making the trip again within two or three months, with not
one but three Cat People, in a different car and another
driver. We sped along for something like an hour and a half
and then noticed a roadside restaurant. It was adjoining a
service station and seemed like a convenient place to stop
for breakfast. Sindhi stayed in the car which we parked in
the shade because a closed car can become extremely un-

36
comfortable for a little cat on a hot summer day. After we
had finished our meal we felt refreshed and ready to start off
again, and so we continued along Highway 401 for mile
after mile, through St. Thomas (the city — not the Saint), and
on toward Fort Erie. Fortunately neither Flora or I wanted
to keep up a non-stop conversation and soon we were ob-
livious to our surroundings and lost each with our own
thoughts. However, drivers seem to keep part of their mind
on the mechanical aspect and, immediately there is a need
for full consciousness they are instantly alert; otherwise
they seem to ‘tick over’ — appearing to propel the vehicle
automatically, just like a cat who apparently is sitting
dreaming his life away but a slight sound will bring him
back to full attention and action.
Although we had lived in Canada for almost two years,
still we had not become used to the long distances people
traveled, especially by car, on the roads. Two hundred and
sixty miles was nothing to a Canadian, but to people such as
I and my Family it seemed a very long way.
I wondered what was in Flora's mind for she too had had
many experiences, not all of them pleasant. She was also a
New Canadian, having emigrated from Europe. Her life had
been full of obstacles and she was doing her best to carve
herself a new life. I Would always entertain a warm feeling
toward her because she had been one of our earliest contacts
in this country: She had been instrumental in making our
arrival more pleasant than it would have been, by her kind-
ness in providing all the necessities for our immediate use in
the furnished house we had rented. I can still picture the
beautiful rosy apples which greeted us as we walked into
the living room; however, now we have become accustomed
to the pleasures of Canada's apples, peaches, and various
other delights which this country produces.
My reverie undisturbed, Sindhi close beside me, I re-
membered Coralie (another young person who I had met in
those early days). Coralie was a native Canadian, the first
Canadian born person I had met. She was employed in a
bank in Riverside Township, and nothing was ever too much

37
trouble for her (which was a great help when everything
was a bit different in this New Country).
After I had been to the bank a few times I saw she wanted
to say something special to me, and she shyly volunteered
the information that her Mother was an avid reader of the
Guv's books. ‘Oh yes’, she continued, ‘Mother enjoys the
books immensely and she would really love to have one of
her volumes autographed by him. Thus a pleasant associ-
ation resulted which continued until after we left the Wind-
sor area.
Thus I reminisced on the events since our arrival in North
America. . . . I had often marveled at the thought of a person
we knew in a store in Riverside who traveled sixty miles in
an evening just to visit and to play cards, and then make the
return journey (another sixty miles) to be at her place of
work early the next morning. Then there was the Pet Shop
Owner who we met fairly often when we called for Cat Nip
or Cat litter, or some other small items of interest. This man
had seen the Guv's name mentioned in an international
magazine of some note, and I found it most amusing when
he commented, ‘But you cannot get a mention in there even
if you pay.’ At such times as these, with no particular prob-
lem of the moment to occupy one's thoughts, there seemed
no end to the recollections which come to the surface: I
recalled another impression of that Pet Shop. Two beautiful
Siamese cats were there awaiting a home; they were fairly
adult and I felt attracted to them. They were well past the
kitten stage and I went close to the cage where they were,
just to be sociable and to greet them. Then I realized they
must have thought I was going to take them (and judging by
their voices they must have been asking me to do so) and it
saddened me that I was unable to do anything about it.
Perhaps one can be too sensitive about things, but I have
always felt a certain remorse for approaching them and pos-
sibly raising their hopes for a moment, then appearing to let
them down. I have often wondered about them and I
strongly believe that Siamese cats especially should not be
allowed to stay in a pet shop — that orders should be passed

38
on to the breeder. They are too sensitive for the only kind of
treatment pet stores are able to provide, and many stores
will not contemplate detaining them in such conditions.
At last — we saw by the signposts that we were ap-
proaching Fort Erie and we sighed with relief — all of us now
beginning to feel weary and getting tired of driving. Just
before reaching the Fort Erie Hotel we noticed a sign indi-
cating the Business Section; but it branched off to the left
and we wanted to go straight ahead. Finally we arrived at
the motel where we had made previous reservations (just
across from the Fort Erie Hotel and situated a fair distance
from the main shopping area). Fort Erie has two areas — it is
in two parts: The south end, which is near the Niagara river
(being the original older district), and the north end (newer)
more modern, and the main shopping street is Jarvis Street.
We were staying nearer the older part and we had chosen a
motel, deciding it would be easier for parking and more
accessible for Sindhi's needs; also, we hoped fewer staff
would intrude if she was to be left in the room alone.
We could have done very well with a rest because the
temperature had climbed quite a lot by 2 o'clock in the
afternoon; but, uncomfortably warm as we were and some-
what exhausted, there was no time to lose, so we made
Sindhi comfortable and then we drove off. We had been told
about some places to rent in the south end; however, they
did not seem to suit our requirements so we decided to go
along to see the house on the Parkway. First of all, we re-
turned to the motel to find Sindhi awake and rested, so we
took her with us. Once more we passed the south end of the
town, then past the foot of Jarvis Street, continuing along
the Parkway until we came to Cedar House (the name had
appealed to me and I was not disappointed when I saw it); it
was built of cedar and I could hardly wait to look around
the place.
Sindhi stayed in the car with Flora while I went to inves-
tigate. I noticed a few people wandering around the grounds
throughout my investigation. Mrs. C. was waiting for me in
the house and she was very helpful. She showed me around

39
the rooms which were all on one floor, including a nice sun
room which unfortunately was packed full with furniture.
Then we went into the basement to see the water heater and
storage space; then out through the side door to see the boat
which was docked by the creek and which I thought looked
very interesting. This was something we had not known
about before and I felt it would be an added interest, es-
pecially for the Guv who enjoyed being on or near the
water. I went and called Flora to come and take a look
around because it is always better to have more than one
opinion. She too considered it to be ideal (wishing no doubt
that she could take up residence also). We adjourned to Mrs.
C's quarters to discuss business details, and she was good
enough to provide us with a nice cool drink before leaving.
Of course nothing was decided on that visit because I would
have to discuss it with the Family on my return to Windsor.
I would tell them all about the nice little house, the lovely
trees, and the water (and the Guv would have a clear picture
if I concentrated while I described each detail, and he would
know whether it was right for us, and what to suggest). Yes,
I thought he would like it, with all those trees which he
loves, and the Niagara river just across the road; and I was
sure the Cat People would enjoy climbing trees and playing
amongst the leaves which would soon be falling, though I
hoped no-one would come to grief through climbing too
high or falling off a branch, or something. However, all this
was in the future for nothing had been settled. I had noticed
there was a garage, something which would be absolutely
essential, for the winter would be extremely cold (wasn't
that particular area situated in what is known as ‘The Snow
Belt’)? Shiver, shiver, I thought, even though it was no later
than July and Mrs. C. was keeping cool under an enormous
electric fan.
So we took our departure and returned to our motel
rooms where Sindhi soon curled up for a snooze, after dining
on a piece of cold chicken and some Carnation evaporated
milk. For some reason most of our cats have preferred this
brand of canned milk, with occasionally a little cow's milk

40
to moisten their dry biscuits; and always we have a bowl of
fresh water placed in a convenient position, something
which all cats find necessary and which is just as essential
for them as it is for humans.
Flora and I were feeling quite tired by this time, but we
needed some food also and this could not be obtained
through the motel facilities (excellent and well appointed
though they were in every other direction). As the Fort Erie
Hotel was just across the road we decided to try the dinning
room there for dinner, and we felt much better afterwards,
We were fortunate in having the attention of a very charm-
ing young woman who told us she had but recently arrived
and therefore was unacquainted with the housing situation,
which we had been discussing. Of course we assumed that
Lillian was a waitress, otherwise why should she be looking
after our table, and it was some time later that we were
made aware that she was studying the hotel business. At any
rate the meeting was a fortunate one for us because at a
future date Lillian was instrumental in helping us with
another moving problem; and through her we spent a most
happy time in another part of Ontario. I have had many
such experiences in my life in that I have met someone,
apparently by chance, and it has led to other incidents
(mostly fortunate). At one time I would have considered
such events merely that — CHANCE; however, eventually I
came to realize that a greater force than ‘chance’ influences
our lives, and that most of the things which happen to us are
planned (somewhere, by someone); even sickness and ac-
cidents; and we plan many of them ourselves, even if we find
it difficult to accept the concept.
Our rooms were adjoining, with a connecting door. It was
more sociable that way, and we thought Sindhi would enjoy
the extra space — making it seem more like home and thus
giving her a feeling of greater security. We decided to retire
to bed without delay so that we would be rested for the
coming day, in preparation for our long trek home. There
was a television in Flora's room and she told me the next
day that she had looked at the screen for awhile before

41
going to sleep (hoping it would help her to ‘unwind’ after
the somewhat hectic day). It had been quite exhausting for
her since she had done all the driving, as well as providing
pleasant companionship for the little Cat and her Ma. As for
Sindhi and me, well, we slept in spasms — I slept during the
periods when Cat was quiet; but several times I felt feline
paws walking over me. Also, she did her share of cater-
wauling when I would look up to find her sitting high on a
tallboy or some other high place. That little creature must
have been familiar with every piece of furniture in the room
choosing first one place and then another from where she
would sing her ‘solo’, but eventually towards the early dawn
she and I settled down.
The return journey was uneventful; we had traversed the
territory before so there was nothing new to distract our
attention. It was another heavenly day, and again we had
started out in the early hours. As we sped along the High-
way my thoughts were of Home and the Family — four of
them eagerly awaiting our return (we expected). My make-
up being such that my Home means a great deal to me, I do
not enjoy being away from it or leaving the Family for very
long. It is not that I consider myself to be indispensable for
there is no one who cannot be done without; it is merely
that my nature demands stability and reliability, which my
Home represents. I have not preferred the constant moving
which has been our lot, but since there is nothing one can do
about it I have ceased to worry, and have adopted the
maxim, ‘If you cannot change it — accept it.’ Being of an
imaginative nature I speculated on the reactions of the
Family regarding this property I had just seen. Would they
feel the same as I did and decide to give Cedar House a trial?
Personally, I hankered after the freedom it would offer — a
house situated all by itself with no other dwelling close by, I
visualized myself amongst the trees where, like Ferdinand
the Bull, I might just sit and smell the flowers. From this it
may be deduced that I am not an energetic person, not
physically at any rate; but I do have a great affinity with
tree life, and the Guv has increased my devotion with many

42
interesting stories of their origin and purpose. I know that to
be close to them induces harmony and tranquility (if one
believes), and I know that they are indeed thinking entities. As
we drove along I had a vivid memory of an incident when
Silver Tabby lived with us. He spent many hours resting
on a big branch of The Old Apple Tree, just by the back
entrance in our little garden where we had lived in a London
suburb. I remembered the Guv was having a telepathic con-
versation with Silver Tabby, as we all sat quietly in the
room, when, expressing a look of surprise, the Guv asked
audibly, ‘However did you know that?’ Immediately came
the response, ‘Well, I will tell you — Mr. Tree told it to me.’
Since that time I have held the Tree People in even higher
regard. The American Indians had a great respect for trees
and in their writings one can read of The Great Tree Spirit,
who they held in deep veneration. Yes indeed, I hoped with
great fervor that everyone would agree this was a move
well worth considering.

43
 CHAPTER SIX

It would not be strictly correct to say that our return

journey was ENTIRELY uneventful for, before we reached
Windsor, the car ‘conked out’ — on the Walkerville road, a
few miles from home. So my first greeting to the Family was
by telephone, with a request for someone to come and col-
lect Sindhi and me. Flora had to stay with the automobile
until a mechanic could get out there and see if he could get it
going; otherwise it would have to be towed away. Judging
by Flora's expression I guessed that all was not well as we
sped along, and the engine seemed to lack its natural ‘purr’;
but she did not comment until we actually came to a halt,
and then she did say something . . .which I will not repeat
here!! Later she admitted that, in her eagerness to reach
home as quickly as possible, she had overdriven and the car
just would not (or could not) make it. The Guv was most
tolerant when I reported our predicament and he said it
would not be long until a car would be there for us. Later he
explained how a machine, or an instrument of any kind,
will give far better service if you give it the attention it
needs, plus a certain amount of understanding. Many people
have commented on the Guv's magic touch when dealing
with a car, a camera, and even a typewriter, when another
person could do nothing with it. The Guv and the instru-
ment seem to blend together and become one unit, and I
have seen him produce really good pictures from an ordi-
nary box camera when another person would do no better
with a far superior instrument. Even the tools he uses re-
ceive the same treatment; I have never known him to put
them away after use without the same care he reserves for a
sophisticated piece of machinery, and it is not an exagger-

44
ation to say you would have to go a long way before finding
such a perfectionist in whatever task was being undertaken.
Fifi and Ku'ei looked contented as though they had been
well cared for in my absence (as they had been) and we were
all happy to be together again. I was very proud of Ku'ei
who had never spent more than a very few nights of her life
without me. Once when she was quite young the Guv and I
had found it necessary to be away together for twenty-four
hours, and on our return we were told she had taken no food
at all. It certainly gave us a fright, so never again did we
both go away at the same time unless it was for only a few
hours. It was quite obvious that if our trip had lasted
another twenty-four hours Miss Ku'ei would no longer have
been at home to greet us.
The Guv had a private conversation with Sindhi and I
didn't dare think of the interpretation she was placing on
that outing — how she was describing her experiences. She
probably said, ‘Thank heaven I'm back with you Guv and
not cavorting around the countryside with those crazy
women. I did hear a whisper though, that she had found the
trip to be so long she was sure she had been all the way to
Vancouver!
After some discussion, and having made the big decision
to uproot ourselves again — everybody agreeing it would be
for the best, we began to look forward to the move with
pleasurable anticipation. What a change it would be to get
away from all the Riverside Drive distractions where, just
below our windows, traffic went speeding by at all hours of
the day and night. At the other side of the road were the
railroad tracks — and it was almost at the end of the line, so
with trains passing by and the shunting which went on,
there was hardly a quiet moment. Ocean going ships, lakers
and local craft on the Detroit river added to the pan-
demonium and when the Cat People went into hiding at the
sound of the frequent foghorn blasts, we felt like doing the
same.
Really there was much to commend this change, and
everybody believed it would be a successful move so we

45
began to make preparations. One important item was what
to do about our furniture which we had bought the previous
year, and while not wildly expensive or elaborate, was still
something we owned. There would be very few things we
could take with us to a furnished house which was not very
big and already crowded, so what could we do? Our first
idea was to approach the owner of the store where it had
been purchased (which we did), and to our surprise and utter
dismay we were informed in a not too polite manner that
there was no demand for used furniture and he was just not
interested. If this was true of Windsor, we found other parts
of the country to be somewhat more reasonable in this re-
spect; or perhaps we had just been unfortunate in our first
experience. However, it's an ill wind that profits no one, and
we were able to assist a young man who, having just got
married, was having difficulty in getting a home together.
He was very pleased to accept our offer, and so it was
arranged that on our departure he would take all but the
very few small personal items which we would need our-
selves. We had reached the point where we almost expected
to have to pay someone to take the goods away, so the
young man had helped us too in removing them. He had
done us one or two favors in the past, so it was a case of
‘one good turn deserves another’.
How is it that a family can accumulate so many pos-
sessions in the course of a few months, I wondered. Cer-
tainly we were no exception, and I was reminded of it the
other day on hearing that Mrs. Ford, the President's wife,
had to go back to their old home in Virginia to do a lot of
sorting out in the attic, or something, before finally settling
into the White House. Well, no doubt the President's wife
had a lot more sorting out to do than we had, and she had
only one (instead of three) Siamese to help her but Top Cat
‘Shan’ was probably already well installed and performing
important duties at l600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Anyhow we
certainly found a great deal of unnecessary paraphernalia,
and after disposing of it we were lighter in spirit, as well as

46
possessions, while vowing that never again would we give
way to hoarding articles which we did not need.
Everything was planned for our departure in the early
part of September, the first week if possible as we were eager
to get to what would be our new home — the place where we
would be staying for at least six months with an option to
continue the tenancy on a monthly basis. The Guv's book
was completed and in the hands of the publisher so we were,
in a way, ‘ticking over’ as far as our business and pro-
fessional activities were concerned.
Our traveling arrangements were all in order, particularly
regarding preparations for the Cat People. A friend, Mrs.
Ruth Durr (or just ‘Ruth’ as she had come to be known to
us), had offered to drive me (along with Fifi, Ku'ei and
Sindhi) in her fairly big, if not so new, blue car. So that was a
great help and we were delighted to accept her offer because
we had been wondering how we would manage. The Cat
People liked Ruth and they treated her as one of the Family
because she spent a good part of the day in part of our
house, which she used as an office while she was waiting for
her own store to be completed. Her supplies had begun to
arrive and she had no place to keep them in the meantime;
so the Guv had offered her some space, with the blessing of
our Landlord, and she has always been grateful to the Guv
for, in a way, being responsible for her start in business.
Indeed he had given her a great deal of moral support and
encouraged her to branch out on her own when she had
seemed to hesitate and ponder upon the responsibilities in-
volved (and now she is possibly the leading supplier of
books in her area). When her store eventually opened, we
used to drive along and get our supplies from her, and if you
have read Fifi's book, ‘Living with the Lama’, Ruth Durr will
be no stranger to you. She always kept in stock a delightful
selection of Cat books, and each time she has come across
something which she thought would interest us she has been
kind enough to send us a copy.
So, final arrangements were made and at last THE DAY

47
arrived. The Guv was quite sick and it was not certain
whether he would be able to travel; it was a horrid situation,
with our place in something of an upheaval, and we could
not be sure he would feel any better tomorrow. However, he
did start out later in the day and was able to do the journey
after making an overnight rest en route.
It was a relief to the Guv to know that Ruth was going to
be with me, especially as she cared for and understood Cat
People, and she was ‘owned’ by two of them — a friendly
‘black and white’ whose name I do not recall for the
moment, and a Siamese named Chuli.
Now it was time for leaving, so we picked up the suitcases
and bags which would be needed immediately and the five
of us made our way to the car (in a few minutes we would
be on our way once more to Fort Erie — at least it would be
the second time for Sindhi and me). When we started out I
had one creature on my lap, one on my shoulder, and the
third (Fifi) sitting sedately by my side. They were all within
my reach so that I was able to keep reassuring them that all
was well, and until they became tired they were interested
in everything. I was sure the Guv had spoken to them be-
cause their conduct was remarkable and I was proud of my
trio of Cat People.
There was plenty to think about and so I appreciated the
cooperation which the other three passengers were offering.
The three Felines seemed to be enjoying themselves, es-
pecially Miss Ku'ei who had always adored driving. As I
have often remarked, she seemed to take great pleasure in
just sitting on my lap, neck stretched out, and head hanging
over my knees. It was just as though she had left her body
parked there and gone sailing away to another place; and we
had often talked about the great pleasure she derived
from this method of recreation (which suited her so well).
Ruth seemed to be occupied with her own thoughts and I
soon found myself looking toward the future and pro-
visionally making plans for my side of our activities. Before
coming to a final decision it has mostly been our practice to
discuss with each other what we were thinking of doing,

48
and it has always seemed a good idea because then problems
can be avoided, and in a way ‘ironed out’ before they are
allowed to grow. I knew roughly what the sleeping arrange-
ments would be because it had been discussed before; and
really, in a two bedroom dwelling there was little choice.
Since a good part of the day was always spent in the main
room, it was obvious that would be most suitable for the
Guv; and the big picture window would provide a pleasant
view over the Niagara river. But first of all it would be neces-
sary to rearrange the furniture and take away the huge
piano which dominated the room. Buttercup would have the
room near the entrance and that would leave the Cat Family
and their Ma to the so-called Master bedroom which was set
up with twin beds, a view of the grounds, and a somewhat
musty odor due no doubt to the moist atmosphere and lack
of use. Ruth was going to stay overnight and I would do my
best to see that she was comfortable, and left undisturbed.
On this second trip we had not started out from Windsor so
early, so by the time we reached Cedar House it was close to
supper time, and we all felt tired and hungry so we looked
forward to a nice meal and a good night's rest.

49
 CHAPTER SEVEN

LIFE very rarely turns out the way we plan, and perhaps it
is a good thing so that we are prevented from getting into a
rut; we have to keep on the alert, always ready to face the
unexpected. That first night was not very restful after all
for everyone seemed over tired and disorientated, as indeed
we were. In the first place I had deposited Sindhi in the sun
room and left the other two Cat People to investigate the
rest of the house because Ruth and I had a few things to do
before settling down with the Children. After a few minutes
I noticed Sindhi also wandering around and I thought my
eyes were deceiving me, but after she had emerged two or
three times even though the door was closed I realized there
must be another way to get out of the sun room. I felt rather
foolish when eventually I saw a kitchen window leading
into the sun room was wide open and Sindhi Cat had obvi-
ously been amusing herself at my expense. Although we sat
down to a very simple meal consisting of a few supplies we
had brought along, we really enjoyed it, followed by a nice
pot of tea to which Ruth was very partial, and soon she
decided to retire as she had to get back to Windsor the next
day and attend to some business matters regarding the store.
By this time the Cat People were beginning to look rather
weary, and the Little One was quite restless and somewhat
irritable, so I debated the problem of how best to get us all
settled for the night. In the end I decided to put Sindhi in the
Master bedroom and stay with her for a .time until she felt a
little more rested, and then I would share the chesterfield in
the living room with Fifi and Ku'ei. I noticed a big armchair
also which the Cat People might find a bit more comfortable
if Ma should prove to be restless. Before going to sleep I

50
thought I would have a little session with my small radio,
and I knew the programs would be coming from Niagara
Falls or Welland while the main newscasts would be relayed
from Toronto. Fort Erie did not have a radio station but that
was not important for it was quite simple to tune in to
Buffalo, New York, which was just across the river, and we
later enjoyed some very good programs from that city.
But on that first night, all my efforts were doomed to failure.
No matter what I did I couldn't get a sound out of the thing
— it seemed quite dead. I shook it, twiddled the knobs, and
finally gave up in frustration and weariness, deciding to try
the Land of Dreams instead, with the intention of putting
my radio problem before the Guv who would have no
difficulty in solving it. But dreams do not come to order and
in the darkness I found myself drifting around and remem-
bering past experiences; some pleasant, others not so
pleasant, and some probably not even worthy of recording.
At one period of my life I had used a certain method of
inducing sleep which usually worked; it was a process of
‘regressing’ my thoughts, thinking back — back — and further
back on the events of my life, and usually I didn't get very
far before achieving the desired effect — SLEEP. Later I
reasoned that it was not advisable to indulge in this practice
so I gave it up in favor of looking to the future; looking
forward and making plans with the intention of improving
the days ahead instead of just reliving the past which, I
decided, gets one nowhere. Besides, now I am able to induce
the state of sleep by complete relaxation which I have
learned through the Guv's books. So why work hard at
something when you can achieve better results with less
effort? Now I compromise with myself when resting for a
few minutes, or even in going about my routine duties. I
allow myself to day-dream a little and take a peep into the
past, otherwise how can I hope to improve the future (and
as that system was presumably used by the old Atlanteans,
how could I hope to improve on it), and this way I find the
practice a pleasant and useful form of relaxation.
So, while not in a deep sleep but just hovering near the

51
border, I felt myself drifting around, wondering about the
future and how it would compare with the past. Life in
Ireland (that remnant of Atlantis) had been very enjoyable,
living as we did by the sea, on the Hill facing Ireland's Eye
and Lambay Island, and the Mountains of Mourne away in
the distance but not always visible. We had taken a drive
one evening around the Hill of Howth and that was how
we spied this ‘House for Rent’ sign, and the welcoming cry
of the sea gulls made us feel at home. The memories of
Howth came flooding into my consciousness and I remem-
bered how the Guv used to let himself down the side of
the cliff on the end of a rope. He used to enjoy ‘exploring’
the caves which were there at sea level, and I used to think it
must bring back many happy thoughts of his younger years.
The Guv was more agile at that time and he was able to take
walks around the garden with Fifi and Ku'ei who loved to
accompany him; and I used to take pictures of the Family.
But cats do not enjoy being photographed — not our cats
anyhow.
We were living in this particular house when we found
Fifi, or did Fifi find us? And for that reason alone I would
reserve a special place in my heart for Ben Edair, the little
house which for a time provided a measure of peace and
sanctuary for us.
From a place somewhat higher a little plateau on the Hill,
I had taken a short cine film of the Guv where, first he sat on
a rock where I took a ‘close-up’, and then he walked toward
me, and the result was very pleasing even though the equip-
ment we had used was quite modest. The beautiful blue of
the sky, blending with the saffron of the robes created a
delightful effect and we derived much pleasure from view-
ing it on the big screen, on which we showed slides and short
cine films in the evenings. The Irish people had been very
friendly towards us and I always felt an affinity with them;
and the Guv and I used to enjoy listening to many of the
Irish songs — one Irish lullaby having a great appeal for us.
Personally I had always found great pleasure and satisfac-
tion in listening to the recordings of John McCormick, the

52
Irish tenor. His voice seemed to soothe my nerves and raise
my ‘vibrations’ (a much overworked word these days) . . so
with all these pleasant memories flooding my mind on that
first night it was not surprising that I woke up feeling re-
freshed and contented, though my sleep had been ‘fitful’.
Later that morning I remembered another episode which
had not been so pleasant: It was one evening when the Guv
said he would take me out in one of the dinghies, which
could be rented down by Howth Harbor and which was
powered by an outboard motor. For a time we were really
enjoying the trip when gradually an eerie feeling pervaded
the atmosphere. Dusk seemed to be descending prematurely,
and then suddenly a squall blew up and we had to turn
towards the shore as fast as we could. It was not until we
reached home that I realized how serious and in what great
danger we had been, and how it had taken all the Guv's
energy and know-how to prevent us from capsizing and
being carried away — probably disappearing forever. What a
responsibility it would have been for Buttercup (who ex-
pressed great relief on our return) had she been left with two
poor orphaned Siamese People; and how distressing for Fifi
and Ku'ei.
We breakfasted a little late and Ruth said she had spent a
comfortable night, having been supervised periodically
when a cat would walk over her bed to check and see
whether she was still breathing. After breakfast she sug-
gested driving along to the grocery store in the town to get a
few provisions which we urgently needed, and while she
was away I tidied up around the house as much as I could.
On her return (which was around eleven o'clock) she had a
light lunch because she wanted to leave no later than
midday; but she was hoping to see the Guv before leaving
and we had no idea of the exact time he would arrive. So I
went out with Ruth to her car and at that moment, almost
as though planned, just coming up to the entrance was the
easily identifiable pink and gold Mercury bearing the Guv,
with Buttercup at the wheel — just in time to say ‘Hello’ and
‘Goodbye’.

53
 At last the Family were together again, so we all sat
down and reported our experiences since leaving Windsor.
Nothing too exciting seemed to have happened to any of us
fortunately, though we did remember one or two small
details which had not been attended to before our departure.
But it was a simple matter to telephone the owners who lost
no time in dealing with these simple problems. My radio was
standing on the table and the Guv asked me how I had found
the programs and whether I had listened to anything
special, or if I had found any one station better than
another. Rather sheepishly I had to admit that I could not
pass an opinion since the ‘so-and-so’ radio had refused to
work for me. And I really did feel like a sheep when he
examined the thing and found the batteries had been put in
the wrong way 'round. Ah well, I thought, we live and learn.
After that problem had been dealt with we were eager to
take a good look around the place, so when the Guv was
ready we went exploring — first of all down to the basement
to look at the hot water and heating arrangements. The Guv
examined everything carefully while the ‘People’ poked
their noses into every nook and cranny. We were interested
to see a workbench, fitted with tools, which showed that
Mrs. C's late husband must have been something of a car-
penter; but we were not at all interested in a billiard table
which, in our opinion, occupied too much space. So we
moved it to one side of the room, much to the chagrin of
Mrs. C. when she found out (it seems that a billiard table has
to be set up very accurately and we had really revealed our
ignorance in treating it in such a thoughtless manner, when
she had paid someone to install it).
The Cat People often went down to the basement, osten-
sibly to catch a mouse, and sometimes we wondered who
would run the fastest, mouse or cat, if by chance they did
encounter such a creature. Since they looked upon them-
selves as People and not Cats, one hoped they would not
allow a mouse to chase THEM.
Each of the Cats wore a harness and lead when she went
outside so we were able to maintain a proper check on their

54
movements. The harness was exactly that and not just a
collar around the neck, with a lead attached, but with pieces
of leather fitting around the ‘arms’, providing a comfortable
effect even if it became necessary to give a slight ‘tug’ oc-
casionally. Until a cat gets used to being ‘harnessed’ it is not
unusual for the creature to sit down, refusing to move; and
in Miss Ku'ei's case it took a good deal of time and patience
before she acceded to the arrangement. Of course the pro-
cedure was introduced in kittenhood and later she would
never dream of going outside without being ‘dressed’.
It was not long before Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers was shinn-
ing up a tree, and the Guv was almost having a heart attack
in case she would break away and climb so high that we
would not be able to reach her. Of course, we attached a
piece of twine to the end of the lead, which was not long
enough to satisfy her, and there were times when we had to
run into the garage and fetch a ladder to assist us in rescuing
her. It had long been Fifi's ambition to do some tree-climbing
and she was going to make the most of the opportunity
while it lasted. When she began to get tired she would rest
on a wide branch (of course the Guv always chose the most
suitable trees for her exercises), and knowing how little
pleasure she had ever had, it gave us pleasure too to see her
sitting there with an expression of absolute content — and a
definite air of achievement.
Miss Ku'ei and Miss Sindhi were not so interested in tree-
climbing but they loved investigating on the ground and
playing with the various hued autumn leaves which were
beginning to fall fairly rapidly now. Looking back on those
weeks before the advent of winter, one is left with a de-
lightful sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that those
little people had had such a happy time out-of-doors, which
was something they had all missed in their earlier life.

55
 CHAPTER EIGHT

The Guv was eager to try out the dinghy which was
moored in the little creek, just down a few steps and close to
the rear entrance of the house. So, at the first opportunity I
was pleased to accompany him. We decided to make the
trial trip without other passengers, just to be sure everything
was safe and in good working order (and we had not for-
gotten our experience in Ireland when we were caught in a
squall). Out of the creek we moved into the Niagara river;
and everything went well so we spent an enjoyable time. I
was not too afraid to go on the water because in an emerg-
ency I would be able to swim a little, and I knew the Guv
would see that nothing too awful would happen to us. Of
course, I may have had a few subconscious reservations be-
cause once I had almost drowned, and would have done so
had there not been someone at hand to rescue me immedi-
ately. And another experience which had caused amuse-
ment in spite of my predicament, was on a river in England
when, for some reason, I and my boating companion were
going to moor our boat. While I was reaching out to pull the
boat in it gradually drifted away and I found myself in the
water, feeling very undignified and altogether miserable,
while my companion could do little to help, being overcome
with a fit of laughter at the sight of me slowly slipping out
of the boat and drenched to the waist. The situation must
have been cause for mirth to the onlooker, but it left me
chilled and not very amiable until at last I had to laugh also.
Well, we took trips on the Niagara river as often as pos-
sible, and we were fortunate that year in that the warm
weather lasted until about November. Mrs. C. had taken
away the screens from the windows and put up the extra

56
 ‘double’ windows in preparation for the winter, but the tem-
perature remained so high that we had to revert to the
summer arrangement and put back the screens until almost
the end of the year.
Sindhi took several boating excursions with us, and she
behaved very well but her temperament continued to be
unreliable, so we still felt greatly concerned about her.
The warm autumn days were conducive to idling on the
water; and on occasion we would just drift in the other
direction, up the creek instead of down into the main river.
Sindhi seemed to enjoy these outings, at least she did not
protest, though she probably kept private her real thoughts
on the matter. If the Guv was not going out, and there was
shopping to do, I would accompany Buttercup, and Sindhi
would go along too, sometimes going as far as Niagara Falls
which was bigger than Fort Erie and therefore enjoyed a
greater variety of stores. There were no stores close by
Cedar House so it was necessary to take the car each time
shopping had to be done. It was interesting to note the
different foods each girl cat liked best. Fifi always enjoyed
lobster (canned lobster) which seemed to contain everything
necessary for her physical well-being, and since she had been
half-starved during the greater part of her existence, it was
necessary to see that she had all she needed to keep her going
in her later days. Canned lobster is far too costly these days,
but when Fifi was with us we always managed to keep her
supplies adequate and, apart from the solid part, she also
loved the liquid which to her was ‘Lobster Wine’. Ku'ei was
not greatly interested in food, and she was a most adaptable
person in this respect. Having moved from one country to
another it had been necessary to take whatever each
country had to offer; thus, at one period she enjoyed rabbit
cooked in a pressure cooker, which she considered very suc-
culent, but when rabbit was not obtainable she would
switch to chicken or fish, and she would take her food in a
most polite manner. Ku'ei was a most dainty person and her
table manners matched her appearance, but on occasion I
would marvel at the sight of this apparently fragile creature

57
manipulating a big chunk of chicken, perhaps a leg, grasped
tightly between her teeth, head held high so that the meat
did not touch the floor, marching off to a quiet corner where
she might really get down to a good meal without inter-
ference and audience. To digress a little from the problem of
food I must put on record that Miss Ku'ei had the most
beautiful features which any cat (or human for that matter)
might envy, and each time I had to prise open her mouth to
give her vitamins or other medication, or even spoon feed
her when she was sick, I never ceased to marvel at her
beautifully shaped mouth, and I gloried in the delicate
beauty of MY CAT. Her coloring was a little darker than
the normal seal point, probably due to the fact that her
father was a ‘chocolate soldier’ (a chocolate point Siamese),
while her mother was a seal point. Her eyes, like those of
Elizabeth Taylor, were a deep violet — a color which has
been declared ‘very unusual’. In my enthusiasm for Ku'ei
and her beauty, my affection for Fifi and Sindhi was no less
and never wavered. Fifi was probably the sweetest natured
Cat Person we had ever known, her thoughts were con-
stantly fixed on the welfare of others and she never desired
anything for herself. As for Baby Sindhi, wasn't she my Big
Responsibility, and so charming in her own special way. She
never had a great interest in any special foods and, judging
from her appearance when we first found her, it seemed that
she had suffered greatly from lack of care and under-
standing, and had probably been grateful for any scraps which
came her way. It was no problem to satisfy this little person,
and she always joined the Guv and me at breakfast when the
three of us started the day with a meal of scrambled eggs
which she ate with much gusto. Later, when the time came
that Sindhi was no longer with us in the physical, when she
finally had to leave our care, it was a long time before we
were able to bring ourselves to take scrambled eggs — and
never again for breakfast. Such are one's emotions, and we
would not contemplate doing anything which would bring
back too vividly, and too soon, our sadness at losing this
much loved Person.

58
 Right in front of the picture window in the living room
we had a most wonderful display of wildlife. Birds in glori-
ous garb would come to take food which we had put out for
them, and one of the most colorful of these birds was the
Red Cardinal. One of the greatest pleasures of our day was in
watching these Nature People, and always we would find
amongst them a large number of so-called ‘house sparrows’,
a bird especially close to my heart. Even now when I am out
walking in the morning, just collecting the mail, I experi-
ence a delightful ‘glow’ at the sound of the chirping song of
greeting, which I like to believe is something special for me.
One sparrow for whom I had had a special name used to fly
from telegraph pole to telegraph pole, sometimes swooping
down before me as I walked along the street — and even
waited while I did a little shopping before accompanying me
home again. I used to think the Guv had told Pete Feathers
he should look after me!!! And I felt a real affinity with
Francis of Assisi—
One of our extra special friends at Cedar House was of
great interest to our Smaller People. This creature was a very
friendly raccoon and he often came in front of the window.
It was really something to witness our three when they
spied him for they must have thought him enormous.
Recently I met someone who was employed in the build-
ing where we now live and her conversation reminded me of
those days at Cedar House. Lisa told me a little about her life
and how she came to Canada from Germany, made a home
for herself, and started out with a little dog as a companion.
‘But now’, she took great pride in relating to my anxious
ears, ‘now I have a cat!’ ‘And is he BIG!’ ‘He is a ‘Coon!’ We
have enjoyed many conversations with Lisa, and she is a
most kind person who delights in presenting little gifts to
those who treat her with kindness and respect.
This period at Cedar House was a time of peace and con-
tentment, and no doubt there may have been (and probably
were) various problems and minor irritations, but it is nice
to remember the HAPPINESS.
I have a friend who is fairly well endowed with this

59
world's goods, and she came to visit us all the way from the
Orient. We spent a very enjoyable time within the environs
of Montreal and she was especially intrigued with the Queen
Elizabeth Hotel where we spent a lot of time exchanging
experiences. Friendships do not come easily to me so this
was a period of special significance; and Suzanne was not
too satisfied with her life at that time. During one of our
discussions we came to the subject of happiness and one day
she made quite a bright suggestion she thought. Of course I
did not take her seriously when she suddenly said, ‘You
know, Ra-ab, I have been thinking that it might not be a bad
idea if we made a deal.’ I wondered what was to follow, and
then I was highly amused when she continued: ‘How about
me trading my worldly goods in exchange for your state of
“happiness?” I believe she was half serious too. Needless to
say we did not make a deal, and neither did she really expect
it. We have corresponded for something like four years now
and Suzanne has attained a greater degree of contentment
and tranquility, assisted very greatly (she says) by Angel, her
devoted Siamese — the same Angel who refers to me as
‘Mama-San of Cat People’. Happiness and true friendship are
things worth striving for. To have them one needs little
more, and without them the tapestry of life is less colorful,
thus the poorer.
To add to the pleasure of each day were squirrels and
ground hogs to entertain us. We were surrounded by all
these creatures, and more. But one thing we were thankful
for — we did not have frogs in the bathroom, an experience
which was not denied us in South America where in our first
home we had a more or less permanent Mr. Frog resident in
our bathroom — much to the dismay of the Family, including
Miss Ku'ei who began to wonder to whom we would next be
offering hospitality. Miss Ku'ei had quite a sense of humor,
and her telepathic comments (translated by the Guv) caused
us much amusement, adding a little zest to our secluded life.
It was really interesting to see her watching birds from the
window, especially something large like a pigeon or a gull.
She would become quite excited and, with a muttering sort

60
of ‘chatter’, was probably telling the bird to ‘Just wait until I
can get a hold of you — you will provide a beautiful meal for
me!’ One always hoped these remarks were not meant to be
taken seriously.

61
 CHAPTER NINE

As the days gradually shortened and the evenings seemed

longer we all retired earlier, each to our own room so there
was more opportunity for reading and listening to the radio.
Miss Sindhi, like my shadow, was never very far away from
me — my thought was that if she stayed right beside me with
the door closed I could devote the greater part of my atten-
tion to reading or listening to a radio program. Towards
the end of the day one needs to put aside the strains and
stresses of the day and be able to enjoy a little period of
relaxation without interruption. Unfortunately this does
not seem possible for many people, or possibly they do not
realize the necessity of a quiet period occasionally — how it
would assist them in coping with their problems and making
their lives altogether more enjoyable, and fulfilling.
So, knowing there would be no feline hissing or spitting,
Sindhi and I were able to make the most of each other's
company since no one else was likely to intrude. Miss Ku'ei
put up with this state of affairs for some time (not very
happily I felt), and then she gradually asserted her authority
in a quiet sort of way. At first she would come into the
room, along with Sindhi and me, and she would settle herself
down on a chair on one side of my bed, or on my bed (with
Sindhi on the other side) and stay for short periods only.
When Sindhi became too restless Ku'ei just had to leave and
join Fifi on the chesterfield in the Guv's room, where she
would spend the remainder of the night. But Miss Ku'ei was
quite a determined young lady, as are most persons born in
July, and in the end she had so completely regained her
position that she was once again staying all night with
Sindhi and me; thus the Guv had become Mrs. Fifi's sole

62
responsibility during the hours of darkness, a situation
which gave her the greatest possible satisfaction. I some-
times wondered whatever must have been said to the poor
little Sindhi Cat to make her tolerate Ku'ei's intrusion into
Sindhi's quiet time with Ma. Perhaps it was just as well I did
not know what had been said for no doubt it would have
made my ears burn, so I would never know whether it was
from a sense of apprehension as to what her fate might be if
she continued in her truculent attitude, or whether she just
decided that ‘the battle was not worth the effort’. But the
end result seemed satisfactory for these two settled down
into a sort of armed neutrality.
If cats are subject to the same influences as human
animals, then Ku'ei must have spent many miserable
moments through being ‘shut away’ from her Ma. Being a
Siamese she had a double reason for being unhappy about
the position, for Siamese People are noted for their trait of
possessiveness; they usually expect to be a ‘One Person Cat’
as far as humans are concerned, and they do not easily tol-
erate competition from others of their own species. Often a
Siamese will be just as happy in the company of a dog, but
there is one exception regarding the possessive attitude. If
one has two kittens of the same age, and even of the same
litter, they will each accept the other without malice, and
indeed they will often spend a happier life than one Cat
Person all alone, especially if human attention is not readily
available — or if the cat would be left on his own for long
periods. Like Siamese, July born people often suffer very
greatly through a feeling of loneliness — a fear of being mis-
understood, or even not being understood at all. In some
ways these people may be looked upon as the martyrs of the
world, and sometimes they will consider themselves as such.
they will work around the problem (or project) until they
have attained the desired goal, be it a situation or an object
upon which their mind is set. In this respect Miss Ku'ei was
very ‘human-like’, and also in the way she would display
great affection for the person whose cat she understood

63
herself to be, more than to another person — just as many
July born ‘Human Animals’ are (so to speak) ‘one-person
cats’.
The so-called master bedroom was stuffy and I never
really got to feel ‘at home’ or ‘comfortable’ in those sur-
roundings, though it could have been worse except for the
fact that I tend to live more in my mind than in my sur-
roundings. If my mind is fairly free of problems I am not
greatly concerned with my surroundings because, usually,
my thoughts are in another dimension. Still, the room was a
bit depressing, set low on the ground; consequently always
rather dark, with a feeling of dampness, and anything but a
friendly atmosphere. When the lights were out and the cur-
tains drawn aside (after we had gone to bed) I used to amuse
myself by watching the traffic passing along the Parkway,
by the edge of the river. Of course I had to keep the curtains
drawn on the occasions when I was going to do some read-
ing because the house, although set in its own grounds, was
not sufficiently secluded to preclude curious onlookers and
those who are known by the horrible title of ‘Peeping Tom’.
Even though it means doing a bit of trespassing, certain
people do not seem to be able to resist the urge to pry into
the private lives of others, especially if the ‘attraction’ is a
lighted room with drapes undrawn. Cedar House was no
exception.
It was nice to listen to the radio and we did this fairly
often while watching the traffic; and the Cat People seemed
to enjoy the musical program, but the broadcasts which
stayed most clearly in my mind were the talks preceding the
United States presidential election. Listening to the Repub-
lican candidate, Nixon, it would seem that only by voting
Republican and continuing on the lines of the Eisenhower
administration could America survive. Then there would be
the young Democrat, Kennedy, apparently full of charm
and persuasiveness, advocating a complete change. So it was
no wonder the voters were a bit confused, perplexed, and
left wondering who would really serve the country best. It
has always interested me to hear of the promises each candi-

64
date makes in the hope of being elected. So these talks were
no exception, especially in the light of subsequent events.
Each of those candidates has had an opportunity to exercise
his skill as President of the United States, and most people
would have found it hard to believe that, within the span of
less than a decade and a half, both of them would be out of
office due to forces beyond their control. Richard Nixon
must often have regretted continuing in the political arena,
following the time he lost the Governorship of California
when he declared, ‘Well, you won't have Richard Nixon to
push around any more.’ Those words were directed to the
press of course and one is left wondering, just a few weeks
after his resignation as President, whether he will ever again
enjoy a measure of peace; or will he have to endure being
‘pushed around’ for the remainder of his days. Whatever
misdemeanor a person may or may not have committed,
surely there must be a limit to the shame, embarrassment
and persecution they are expected to endure. And those who
are so prone to judge and pronounce sentence are not
always so free of guilt as they would appear.
The campaign period of the early sixties came to mind
again this week when it was announced that the last of the
Kennedy brothers had found it necessary to abandon all
thoughts of entering the presidential, or vice-presidential,
race in 1976 — he had decided he could not contemplate
running for either position two years from now. Con-
sidering the fate of his two elder brothers this was obviously
the most sensible, and indeed the only decision left, for after
all who amongst us is anxious to go headlong into disaster
when the warning is crystal clear?
By this time the mornings were becoming quite cool, and
we felt rather sad when we thought of the rapidly ap-
proaching winter months. But it was still warm enough to
take the Cat People outside in what was now a ‘fall’ sun-
shine. Buttercup and I had quite a time keeping these
creatures in check since they had more energy now that it
was cooler. They were as lively as three young horses, and
they would have enjoyed more than anything to break

65
away from their leashes and, like young horses, gallop away
into the distance. On some of the colder days Sindhi and
Ku'ei would go out driving with the Guv and me; Sindhi
having been told she would have to behave herself — or
else!!! Mrs. Fifi would stay home with Buttercup.
If we wanted to take longer than just a few minutes drive
we might go as far as Welland, which was about the same
distance as Niagara Falls, where we would pass along by the
Welland Canal (which is part of the Great Lakes Water-
way). Another place we might visit was beyond Fort Erie,
right along Garrison Road, a few miles further than the Fort
Erie Hotel. This was a little community by the name of Crys-
tal Beach — a well-known holiday resort populated in the
summer months by many United States residents who
owned summer cottages there by the river and, during the
tourist season, very noisy with its various ‘fair’ type attrac-
tions.
It was during this period that we decided it might be a
good idea to have a different car; perhaps something a little
more economical since the Mercury had needed a fair
amount of ‘attention’; and its gasoline consumption was
considerable. It was a bigger vehicle than we really needed,
so we cast around for something smaller. After the usual
Family discussion we contacted a company in Niagara Falls
and arranged for the proprietor to come to our house so that
we might have his opinion on the matter. Finally, after some
negotiation, we found ourselves the owners of a little Re-
nault — a car of French manufacture which was approved of
by Mrs. Fifi (being of French extraction herself) who con-
sidered it would provide good service, though she was not
planning to travel in it unless absolutely necessary.
The acquisition of this little car brought back memories of
one or two episodes in Ireland which had caused us a good
deal of amusement and which, even as I recall them so long
afterwards, I am unable to suppress a chuckle. I feel sure
that the Guv, with his acute sense of humor, will not object
to these incidents being included in the ‘Sindhi’ story. While
living in Howth, near Dublin (well, not more than a dozen

66
miles from that city), we had a visitor — a bearded young
man, and one day he turned up at our house with a new car,
a small affair which he called a ‘Bubble’ — or something.
Anyway it seemed to us a most odd contraption, and one
had to pull open the plastic roof before one was able to get
inside the ‘machine’. (Before going any further I have to say
that, ‘Yes, I do have the Guv's permission to tell the story.’
Well . . ., I just informed him that he had given me the go-
ahead!!!) This vehicle was only a two-seater, at most, and
the Guv received an invitation to accompany the bearded
young man and ‘take a spin’ around the countryside. The
Guv, never averse to a fresh experience, agreed of course —
even if he did look askance at this strange device. As they
left, Buttercup and I had to smile at the sight of them —
apparently enclosed in a plastic dome. It was not until they
returned, however, that we were made aware of the really
amusing part: The weather being warm, they had opened
the roof (and since the inside space was so limited they no
doubt needed the extra air) and they went driving right
away beyond the city, enjoying the scenery and probably
absorbed in an interesting conversation. Suddenly the Guv
realized they had violated a traffic regulation by making a
crossing at a red light (and of course there just HAD to be a
guardia, an Irish policeman, around). The two occupants sat
there in anticipation, waiting for the guardia to come over
to them and issue a ticket. And eventually he arrived — but it
seemed that the sight of those two bearded ‘characters’ seated
in that small ‘Bubble’ was just too much for the officer who
was so overcome with mirth that he could only cover his
face with one hand while he waved them on, and he himself
turned away before they could see his almost uncontrolled
laughter! Perhaps this is not such a dignified term to apply to
the Guv, but perhaps he will forgive me since my intentions
are respectful, but I have to admit (and it cannot be denied)
that he is a ‘good sport’ for he daringly accepted a second
invitation, and the second incident occurred right in the
middle of the bridge which spans the river Liffey — right in
the city of Dublin itself. This time, on the O'Connell Bridge,

67
in the center of the city, apparently the clutch had burned
out, for the car suddenly stalled and was full of dense white
smoke. The driver (our bearded young man) apparently pan-
icked, stepped out, slammed the door and walked away,
leaving the Guv to deal with the guardia who, quite nat-
urally, appeared on the scene. Happily, the Irish police
officers are very tolerant, and not without a sense of humor
either.
Reverting to the subject of beards, we had a few un-
pleasant experiences in the early days due to ignorance on
the part of some of the young people of North America.
Especially do I remember an occasion at Crystal Beach when
we were standing by the car, where we had parked near a
drug store, and I was just going inside the store when a
group of youths began to make movements as though they
were stroking an imaginary beard, and their remarks (any-
thing but polite) were meant to be heard by us. Yes, the Guv
wore a beard for a special reason — he had suffered a dam-
aged jaw. But now it seems that we have come ‘full circle’
and beards no longer are a subject of ribald remarks but are
being sported by just those types who scoffed at us.

68
 CHAPTER TEN

THERE is one big advantage in owning a mini-automobile

and that is the ease with which one may find a parking
space; but there is also a big danger too in that someone in a
much larger car may be speeding along without noticing the
‘mini’, and it would be a dreadful thing to find oneself disap-
pearing underneath such a vehicle. However, thanks to a
kind fate we suffered no such experience while that little car
was in our possession, and we enjoyed its compact cosiness;
but it must have caused something of a problem for the Guv
who was somewhat ‘bulky’, and it must have been rather a
problem positioning himself in its small space. At any rate,
this little ‘box’ served our purpose for some months, and it
was disposed of only because we were going to be out of the
country for a time and we could not take it with us.
As I contemplate these pages I relive once more those
days at Cedar House. It is now October and the same time of
the year as when we used to ‘tootle’ around the roads and
the ground of the Niagara strip; often we seemed to be
moving very fast and making a lot of noise, but we never
reached our destination very quickly. The little car was
rather like a little person — all fuss and bustle. But we liked
our little Renault, even if Miss Ku'ei would have chosen a
Volkswagen instead, preferably a red one.
It was beginning to get colder too, just as it is now here in
Calgary, and as one gets older in years it is not a time to look
forward to, for one's blood is thinner and it is harder to keep
warm. As I look out of the window of the apartment build-
ing (which is our home) I see signs of early October frost
and snow and, having been out collecting the mail already,
I have also FELT the effects of the sudden change in

69
temperature. But no doubt the body’s metabolism will quickly
adjust to this change. Just across the street, to the left, we
are witnessing another sign of CHANGE, and the Guv
too feels sad to see a group of little houses undergoing the
process of demolition. The ‘wreckers’ can bring down one of
these small dwellings within the space of thirty minutes and
I can see the Guv's feelings reflected in his expression:
‘Houses, like people and animals, are created; live out their
life-span and, again like people, having suffered through the
strains and stresses of “living” become outdated and, thus,
have to pass away to make room for something more
modern and more suitable for the times.’ Each morning I
pass a few of these dwellings and I gaze upon them with
longing, though I could not imagine myself living in one of
them having become accustomed to apartment style life, but
I still feel the past joy of ones own home with its little
garden where one might plant one's feet firmly upon the
earth, and enjoy the comfort of a grassy lawn. Hardly a day
goes by without bringing to mind the words of my fellow
countryman as I pass these little places: I can hear the echo
of Thomas Hood who ‘remembered the house where he was
born’, and how there was ‘the little window where the sun
came peeping in at morn’. Poetry and daydreaming may be
out-of-place these days but my case seems to be incurable,
and I do not think I would want it to be different. As the
Guv intimates: ‘So long as we are aware of the dividing line
between daydreaming and reality we have little to worry
about — we are not in serious trouble for, after all, we have
to THINK before we can act, and if we can make our dreams
come true then perhaps we have achieved something.’ I like
to think that is how it goes!
Today our friends, the sparrows, look a little dejected —
they have not become accustomed to the cold weather
either, and they are sad to see their shelters being torn down,
for trees are very sparse here so the eaves of houses provide
a measure of protection for bird-life.
As I walked around the block this morning attending to
my errands, with the snowflakes dancing over my face, one

70
small ‘doggie’ seemed to be enjoying a morning walk with
his Master. Today in particular I was thinking of ‘nature
creatures’ so I took a packet of bread crumbs to scatter on
the waste spaces where cars are parked, or where demolition
is finished and building has not yet begun. Why my special
thoughts of nature today? Well I felt sorry for the little
creatures crouched on the telephone wires, probably won-
dering how they were going to survive the cold of winter
and whether anyone would pass on a few crumbs when the
frosts came. I had another reason for wishing them hap-
piness today for I remembered that this was the anniversary
of the birth of Francis of Assisi (the patron saint of animals
and all creatures of nature).
Most of us have an ideal, one person who they admire
more than any other, and in my own case if there was one
entity I would wish to emulate, to formulate my life upon, it
would be Francis of Assisi who gave up a life of comfort to
devote himself to the good of his fellow men, and who was
especially dedicated to the creatures of nature who he loved
and was loved by them in return. Birds used to perch on his
shoulder, and he would address them as ‘little brothers’. On
occasion he would wait for them to finish their ‘chatter’
before continuing a discourse with the human creatures
who gathered around him. There is in existence a beautiful
Prayer attributed to St. Francis and hardly a year-end passes
without someone sending me a copy, which I always feel
would be worth applying to one's own life. Since I learned
that this Prayer originated in Tibet it has an even greater
significance for me than ever, and I realize how much we
owe to those who have brought from that once mysterious
land so many pearls of wisdom and ideas for good living; not
least of these is our Guv, Lobsang Rampa. I have in my
possession a wooden figure of my ‘ideal’, brought from Italy
naturally, and wearing the simple brown girdled robe of his
Order, which is still worn by the Franciscan fraternity. This
figure has a bird perched on the shoulder and another
creature resting at the feet, and I derive much inspiration
and pleasure in its beauty and significance. I have heard this

71
Assisan saint referred to as ‘Probably the first of the
flower people!!!’ But was not the founder of the Christian
religion one who flaunted convention and who, if He had
lived in our present era, might well have been looked upon
as a hippie? At least He had long hair, which is now frowned
upon by the establishment; and he was definitely a pacifist,
so . . . who are we to judge anyone after all.

A Prayer of St. Francis

Originally from Tibet

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.

Where there is hate, may I bring love;
Where offense, may I bring pardon;
May I bring union in place of discord;
Truth, replacing error;
Faith, where once there was doubt;
Hope, for despair;
Light, where was darkness;
Joy to replace sadness.
Make me not to so crave to be loved as to love.
Help me to learn that in giving I may receive;
In forgetting self, I may find life eternal.

Francis of Assisi

We are taught not to be envious of others but most of us

suffer from this defect at one time or another (a human trait
which we understand we must learn to overcome), and there
are two special qualities about St. Francis that I admire, one
of them being his beautiful singing voice. Before his so-called
‘conversion’ he was somewhat gay and carefree, and he
would roam the streets with his friends, singing songs in a
joyous mood, and his well-to-do-merchant father must have
been very proud of his handsome and talented son. The
second quality which I admire is the ability to ‘tune in’ to
nature, to the elements, and become one with ‘Brother
Wind’, ‘Sister Moon’, and the like. It was the same with all
living creatures — they came to him without fear and with
complete trust; and to Francis they were all his ‘little sisters

72
and brothers’. I confess to being envious of his ability to
commune with them all, and if I am possessed of any am-
bition at all it is that one day I shall be able to commune
with nature creatures by telepathy. I know that my cats, for
instance, are fully aware of my thoughts, but it would be a
wonderful thing to know EXACTLY what they are saying to
ME instead of having to more or less hazard a guess as to
their thoughts and needs. Yes, that is my goal.
In the compiling of these pages I seem to have fallen into
the habit of digression, so I hope I am forgiven. At least I feel
that I am in good company for the Guv freely admits to
using this practice. I sincerely hope that I am not uncon-
sciously copying his style for, not having his knowledge or
his training, the result would be disastrous, and a very poor
imitation indeed. If I should appear to have adopted any of
his phrases I would like to state that it was not intentional;
BUT, I would add that, having read and studied the fifteen
volumes of the Guv's, it would be rather surprising if I had
not ‘absorbed’ some of the author's expressions. If this
shows too much I beg to be excused (and not accused) for
any misdemeanor I may have committed.
My digressing seems to be digressing too far, so let us
return to that October at Cedar House, which resembles this
October in Calgary. The summer seemed to be extended
indefinitely, as it is here this year. Two weeks ago we had
snow and frost, while now we are experiencing an Indian
Summer, which one hopes will also continue indefinitely.
We are about to revert to normal Mountain Time following
the summer’s Daylight Saving Time, and it will be wonder-
ful if the temperature stays in the seventies as the days
shorten.
Those late October days of 1960 were not very exciting —
just calmly satisfying; but one evening we did have a bit of
excitement. Just as dusk was approaching we had to call the
fire department and ask them to ‘come quickly’ because
there was a fire and we were afraid it was getting out-of-
control. Soon the brave men arrived, accompanied by the
noisy roar of their engines, and the flames which were

73
threatening to engulf one of our trees were dealt with in an
efficient manner. Someone must have put a match to the
fallen dried leaves and soon a big tree was well and truly
ablaze. Fires are most unpleasant things to experience, or
even to witness, and I saw one at quite close quarters a few
years before. During the time we lived in Surrey, England (in
a little house named Rosecroft), there was a serious fire in a
house just across the road, almost next door to the little
‘Cottage Hospital’. It was a small dwelling with quite a lot
of resultant damage, and I certainly hope I will never be
closer to a burning building than I was at that moment. To
see pieces of charred furniture being brought out onto the
street, and the dejected expressions of the occupants as their
few goods were ruined by fire and water, was something one
would not wish to repeat. In England, in those days smoke
chimneys would often catch alight and they sometimes
proved to be veritable death traps. Oh yes, we did have a
blaze in our chimney while we lived at Rosecroft, but for-
tunately and to our great relief it was quickly extinguished.
As November approached winter caught up with us and
we had a nice carpet of snow in the grounds of Cedar House.
The frost was quite biting to the skin but still the Cat people
insisted on going outside, chiefly in the middle of the day
because the gradually weakening warmth of the sun made
conditions somewhat more pleasant and tolerable. As was
natural, Miss Sindhi did not seem to feel the cold and north
winds so much as the older felines, Mrs. Fifi and Miss Ku'ei.
Sindhi would evade all my efforts, all my attempts, to get
her into the house when it was felt we had had enough.
Being young and lithe it was not easy for a middle-aged ‘Ma’
to catch the elusive creature, but in the end we managed
with a compromise (most Ma's, usually give in, in the end,
just like all human Mamas): I would promise her a nice
tidbit if she would come to me, and eventually she would
put on her most charming manner and oblige. These sessions
used to bring back to mind another incident, this time in-
volving a big black cat who was so huge that he earned for
himself the name of Mammoth. Mammoth had been staying

74
with us overnight because his Family were moving or some-
thing, and I was to take him from our apartment to South
Kensington, London, where his Family would be waiting.
Well, I took this great big cat down the stairs (it was a
converted house and therefore no elevator), and being rather
small myself Mammoth would have been capable of carry-
ing me instead. A taxi was waiting by the sidewalk and we
began to arrange the seating for the two of us when some-
one from the house distracted my attention, calling me back
to discuss something or other. Suddenly there was a wild
yell from the cab driver who was in a panic, and he was
telling me, ‘Hey Missus, yere cat's runnin' up the road!’ Cer-
tainly by that time I was in a panic too, even if I did not
show it, and fortunately Mammoth was a cat of great
common sense who realized my difficult situation and sud-
denly turned around and began running towards me. I was
most thankful for it would have been an unhappy position
for me had I lost another person's CREATURE. Fortunately
the London taxi drivers are, in the main, a philosophical and
pleasant breed of individual, and judging from the remarks
of this one he was now finding the whole situation cause for
loud laughter. . . .
I do not find it easy to write this part of my narrative
because it brings me closer to the time when Sindhi would
no longer be with us in her physical body; though she has
remained very close to us spiritually, communicating with
us frequently during the ensuing years.
The time came when we could no longer ignore the
situation — no longer blind ourselves to the truth. Our little
Baby Cat, it was realized, was very sick indeed, suffering
from damage to her brain which undoubtedly had been
caused by a blow she must have received when a kitten and
which had resulted in the lack of sight in one of her eyes. So,
the time came when this little Cat Person, who had come to
mean so much to us, had to make her lonely journey to the
Land where she might recover; where she WOULD recover;
to the Guv's ‘Land of the Golden Light’ or, as I like to think
of it when I go visiting in my dreams, ‘Catland’.

75
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

THOSE who have read the Lobsang Rampa books may

wonder how it was that there was never any mention at all of
Miss Sindhi, until ‘Twilight’; but there was a reason for it.
This little girl cat was with us at the time the Guv was
writing ‘The Rampa Story’ and he suggested she be included
in this story; but she preferred it otherwise, so in deference
to her wishes all reference to our Baby Cat was omitted.
However, circumstances change over the years and now
that she is a WELL person, with a balanced outlook, she has
no objection to her Ma writing about our experiences
together. I am reminded of the 35 mm photographic slides
which were taken of the three Cat People sitting on the
chesterfield in the living room, accompanied by their Ma.
The Guv was the photographer and he posed the subjects
beautifully — two creatures on my lap and Granny Grey-
whiskers sitting by my side in her usual dignified French
manner.
For a time we suffered a great feeling of loss and real
sadness, but then we had to put aside our sorrow and get on,
once more, with the process of living. Sindhi, after all, was
much better off for she had been a most UNWELL little
person during the greater part of her very short life span; so
our loss was definitely her real gain and we just had to find
satisfaction in her newly found health and happiness.
We had been in this country a little less than two years
and the going had not been easy, many customs and ideas
being quite different to those of Ireland and England, which
was to be expected in a relatively NEW civilization. We did
not quickly adapt to the brashness found in the two border
towns in which fate had decreed we should find ourselves

76
for about five years following our arrival. The cost of living
(a very topical subject at present) was much higher than we
had been experiencing and, since our income was based on
the ‘Sterling’ factor, it was necessary to practice the strictest
economical methods in order to exist. But . . . in spite of the
obstacles, we DID have our times of fun and merriment. The
Guv and Buttercup, both being quite daring one never could
predict what they would be up to next, and frequently I was
beset by the greatest apprehension if they seemed to be
away rather longer than usual. The Guv, being acutely alert
mentally, physically too, especially in an emergency; and
Buttercup, ever ready for something different, they under-
took ventures which would have been beyond Ma's powers
of endurance. We often smile, if not laughing outright,
when Buttercup in a serious situation is overcome with
laughter herself, and the more desperate the situation the
more she sees the humorous side. One day she and the Guv
came in dripping with water and Buttercup (like me on oc-
casion) seemed incapable of telling a coherent story. We
both seem to have a penchant for seeing the ‘funny’ side of a
serious situation. However, it seemed from what I could
gather from the Guv's description that he and Buttercup had
been walking on the ice on the creek, which but recently
had begun to freeze. Buttercup apparently stepped on a very
thinly frozen part and, rather naturally, fell through. Of
course the Guv reached out to grasp her hand, but he slipped
too (we tease her, saying she pulled him in); so they both
‘went under’. Obviously Buttercup saw the amusing side of
the situation even while she was experiencing a thorough
dunking, and I was given to understand she laughed all the
way to the house. I really sympathized with her in her pre-
dicament since the same thing has happened to me — much
to my embarrassment. Of course the Guv's sense of humor
is often calculated to test one's self-control which, on oc-
casion, seems to be almost nil as far as those two members of
the household are concerned.
A few minutes ago I was telling the Guv what I had just
typed, so he displayed an amused smile at the memory,

77
while at the same time remarking: ‘Well, you know what
really happened, don't you? It was like this . . .’ So he went
on to explain how there was stagnant water under the ice
where the creek met the Niagara river itself. The fast-
flowing water had scoured the underside of the ice, leaving
only a thin platform on the surface which, when it was
stepped upon, ‘snapped like a carrot’. ‘I don't think I can
write that bit,’ I commented. ‘Snapped like a carrot does not
sound good,’ I continued. ‘Go ahead’ he said, ‘that is an apt
description and write this too.’ So I have a little more com-
ment from the Guv, and it pleases me for now we are quits
since I contributed a page or two to Chapter Eleven of ‘Twi-
light’, he is reciprocating with a few lines in what will prob-
ably be Chapter Eleven of the Sindhi Story. So here are his
further remarks . . . ‘What is known in the Old Country (Eng-
land) as Salt Ash Rig, which means “wet behind and no fish”,
because when people went fishing near Salt Ash Bridge they
got wet where I said, but no fish because the river is polluted
by dockyard effluvia.’ I wanted him to write some more
because my piece was longer, but he said ‘NO! After fifteen
books and all the hullabaloo about the last one — leave mc
out.’ Too bad, I consider, but . . . who knows! . . He may
have second thoughts and help me out again when I need to
have something explained. I certainly hope so for he is very
kind and always ready to assist someone in distress. I must
work on it . . . and I am fairly certain that another oppor-
tunity will present itself sooner or later; and, if necessary, he
knows I will ask him outright for assistance. If I don't ask
him he is sure to come along at just the right moment, prob-
ably with the remark: ‘Well, what have you done now? Are
you stuck or something?’

78
 CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTER reading the first part of my story someone sug-

gested my narrative should be written in two or three parts,
so this seems as suitable a time as any to make the division.
The first part was completed over one month ago, in Nov-
ember, and looking outside one could easily believe that
Spring had arrived. Well, Easter will be upon us in around
three months so the winter will be a short one for us here in
Calgary, the city which was named for ‘clear running
water’; but whether the meaning still holds good is a matter
of opinion . . . Let us not get too far ahead of ourselves for
we are not yet out of the Christmas festive season. Actually
I am writing this on Christmas Day itself as I ponder on the
many delightful greetings I have received, even though there
is no celebration of this event in our home. As well as the
joy of celebration there often seems to be a lot of sadness as
the old year is drawing to a close, giving way to the new.
Today we hear of the devastation of a whole city in Aus-
tralia where many people and animals have died; others in-
jured; most of the survivors in danger of dire sickness; and
nearly all of them left homeless.
From a more personal angle, I have just returned from a
funeral parlor after paying my last respects to the memory
of a friend's husband, the friend being quite distraught at
this particular time.
One cannot feel anything but sadness at witnessing the
grief of those who are left to struggle on alone, as best they
can, following the ‘loss’ of a loved one, many people not
being able to accept — not believing in anything following
this life. It is especially hard for a husband or wife who had
led a shared life over many years. An apt illustration for life

79
after death was given to me, and I would like to pass it on —
the transition may be likened to the egg and the chicken:
Does a chicken feel dead because it emerged from the egg?
Rather is it very much alive. And the butterfly! Does IT feel
dead because it emerged from the caterpillar? No, of course
not — it too feels very much alive. How does one know that
the chicken may not have felt imprisoned while in the egg;
likewise the butterfly, waiting to emerge from the cater-
pillar state. Thus with the human body, or animal either for
that matter. To leave the human shell temporarily, even in
sleep, can be a wonderful experience, so how much more so
to leave permanently. It seems that the greatest difficulty for
those who ‘pass over’ is the grief which the friends and rela-
tives display — those who are left behind. If we think about
it, we who are left to mourn are really sorrowing for our-
selves, for our own loss, and not for the one who has gone on
to far, far greener pastures. Most of us have heard of one
person at least who, while experiencing a serious illness, has
told of going to some glorious place far more beautiful and
more peaceful than anything which could be experienced
down here. Especially does this seem to be true of a person
who almost drowns, and then recovers — often expressing
disappointment that the beautiful experience had to end.
Then one has heard of someone who really did not want to
return to their body, and they distinctly remember being
told that they must return for their lifespan was not yet
finished, and there was still a task to be accomplished or a
lesson to be learnt.
Many books seem to have been written recently about the
process of dying, and it is becoming accepted more and
more that the so-called ‘mystery of death’ is nothing more
than a transitory state, a condition commonly known as a
state of transition such as happens in the case of the chicken
and the caterpillar.
From a personal angle I can truthfully say that, although
my Mother long ago passed to the other side of life, I still
often feel her presence very strongly. This feeling is es-

80
pecially strong around Christmas time because, for one
thing, she was a very spiritual person and this period meant
a very great deal to her. Her strong religious convictions
helped her greatly in coping with the many vicissitudes
which beset her, not the least of her problems being her
somewhat wayward daughter who had been anything but a
placid child.
It may be advisable before going any further to mention
the reason for my bringing something of my personal, ear-
lier life into this story. This was also suggested to me so, just
to show that not all May born people are always obstinate
and cussed, and being in one of my more amiable moods, I
conceded to this request — or suggestion. So, to return to the
matter in question — the problem of death and transition.
In the days subsequent to my Mother's passing I was very
unhappy for some time because she meant more to me than
any other person. One may have many friends and associ-
ates but only One Mother, and I had never been able to
envisage life without HER in the background.
I often had the impression that she was trying to contact
me, trying to give me a message following her ‘transition’. It
seemed she was trying to impress upon me to go into a cer-
tain room where I would not be disturbed and there she
would manifest herself before me. Paradoxically, I did not
go, even though her message was insistent over a period of
some days, and it must have been the cause of much sorrow
for her. In those days I had a sort of fear regarding com-
municating with discarnate beings, so I did not do her bid-
ding for I was apprehensive about coming face-to-face with
a ghost. Why should I have been afraid (in death) of some-
one who had shown me only love, and the greatest affection
in life??? As humans we are most strange, are we not? As a
child I was extremely impressionable, and often timid (the
aforesaid remark will no doubt cause much amusement in
my present household), and it would distress me to walk
past a churchyard on a dark night. I would look the other
way and hurry past for I was quite sure I would see

81
something unpleasant. When I look back upon those days I
wonder how I could have been so foolish, but then I realize
that such are the foibles of childhood.
While on the subject of the ‘other world’, of which most
of us still know so little, I am reminded of something which
frequently happened to me as a child. In the morning, before
actually awakening, I could feel myself spinning, spinning,
spinning, like a top; and then finally — bonk, I was lying on
my bed — awake and slightly confused. This used to worry
me for a long time but now I know that I had been merely
returning to my physical body after traveling around in
my sleep and I happened to remember, to be aware of the
occurrence. But in those days the whole thing was beyond
my comprehension. Why am I telling of my own personal
experiences instead of keeping to my favorite theme —
CATS? Well, as previously stated, it is simply because it was
suggested to me and, while I much prefer to live in, and write
about the world of cats, especially my own creatures, I can
be, on a very rare occasion, sweetly reasonable and prepared
to follow another person's advice. I am always prepared to
listen to anyone who has a worthwhile suggestion — and the
other day a most charming gentleman of my acquaintance
commented that he would like to see me writing a book, or
books, for children. But to write for children one needs to
have a special kind of outlook, and training perhaps; but I
gave it a lot of thought and it would make me happy to be
able to entertain this segment of society.
From the earliest days I can remember I have always felt
that there was a special reason for my existence, for my
continuing to keep on living. And I must have exhausted the
proverbial nine lives of a cat; each time I have been in
danger something prevented the event becoming a tragedy.
It took me quite a long time before I realized my ultimate
purpose, but now I am aware of it I am trying my best to
fulfill my ‘behind-the-scenes’ task.
But let us get back to Christmas — the time for children,
and for remembering — and for the Family life of Childhood.
Hanging up one's stocking by the chimney (in a REAL house

82
instead of an apartment), waking up in the middle of the
night wondering if ‘He’ had been, and not daring to make a
sound lest one disturbed ‘Him’. Santa Claus was a very REAL
PERSON.
My Mother used to tell me about a little girl whose name
was Topsy, and ‘Santa Claus’ visit to ‘Topsy’ is still imprinted
on my consciousness:

‘Through the loneliest hours of the night she watched

For she knew the Saint would come
Because right up from her childhood days
He never had missed her home.
But some of the girls at school had said,
Had said it again and again
That there really was no Santa Claus
And as Topsy was only ten
And the wisdom of ten was not very wise
And the girls who said it were tall
Our poor little Topsy had blinked her eyes
Til the tears began to fall . . .’

This little rhyme, the origin of which I am unaware, was

of such interest that it has stayed clearly in my mind, along
with many other thoughts of a good and loving Mother
whose only fault may have lain in her leniency towards her
strong-willed, and sometimes hot tempered, daughter. But
the example she showed would far outweigh any minor
defects from which she may have suffered. A person who
sees only the best in all other humans, always making allow-
ances for them, must in my book of values have attained
some degree of enlightenment.
Ah, yes, I still believe in Santa Claus.

83
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SOMEONE once said, ‘It is not what we fear but what we

desire that is most dangerous.’ Surely that remark contains a
great deal of truth for our desires are often exactly the op-
posite of what is good for us. Our fears often prove to be
groundless, but our desires are something else again—
The other day I read an extract which shows that a fear,
or apprehension of the unknown, is not uncommon. The
piece went like this: A mother said to her child, ‘If at night
you see a ghost, or in the cemetery you see apparitions who
threaten you, don't be afraid. Be brave and attack them;
then they will run away.’ The child considered the remark
for a moment and then came back with, ‘What if their
mother has given them the same advice?’ I thought this quite
amusing, though very sensible from the child's point of
view, and quite worth recording here since it fits in with my
story.
When I was quite young I used to hear the older people
discussing what they termed ‘White Brothers’ and appar-
ently these discarnate figures could be seen quite clearly by
certain people. A true experience was related by a man who
was traveling on horseback through dangerous terrain. Sud-
denly a group of bandits were about to leap towards him,
ostensibly to rob him and cause him bodily harm, when just
as suddenly they drew back, nervous and afraid, with ashen
faces, and disappeared. The man who had been traveling on
horseback related that during the journey he had been ac-
companied by two figures, one on each side of him, and both
of them riding horses. The white-robed figures were so solid
as to be easily seen by the traveler — and apparently by the
bandits also, hence their fright; thus the traveler was pro-

84
tected while he completed his mission. Being of a very im-
aginative nature, I would listen in awe about the society of
the ‘White Brotherhood’. Fortunately these happenings were
accepted in my home, thus I had no trouble in accepting the
unusual experiences which confronted me later in my own
life.
You have heard people say, ‘I have never seen a ghost. I
have never seen anything unusual . . . Why don't I see some
of the things I hear about?’ . . . ‘Other people see things but it
seems that such experiences are not for me.’
How do we know whether or not we have seen a ghost
which is merely an extension of a person, detached and
manifesting some distance away from the physical body.
You will find a person deploring the fact that they ‘never see
anything such as a flying saucer’, and wondering why other
people have all the luck. How do we know whether or not
we have witnessed the sighting of a U.F.O.? Unless we are
well acquainted with astronomy we cannot be sure that a
‘star’ in the sky is not an unidentified flying object. It has
been my satisfying experience to witness some of these ap-
parently unusual phenomena through a quite powerful tele-
scope and anyone who has had such an opportunity as this
would hardly be likely to disbelieve the fact of their exist-
ence. The magnified colors and shapes are a really wonder-
ful, never-to-be forgotten sight. But I am not sufficiently
informed, or experienced, to have a discussion regarding the
pros and cons of U.F.O.'s, so I will leave this subject to those
who are more enlightened on the matter — those who have
really made a study of it.
I will stay with ghosts . . . which seem to be more my
forte.
Some years ago I had a very interesting experience while
living in the suburbs of London. I was standing on the plat-
form at South Kensington waiting for the train which would
soon be arriving, and which would take me the journey of
twenty minutes or so to my home in Surrey. Just idly watch-
ing the other passengers and wondering who they were and
where they might be going, what kind of jobs they might

85
have, etcetera, I saw an acquaintance, standing nearby, with
whom I had recently been chatting in an office. I was a little
surprised to see her going home so early as she had not ap-
peared ready to leave when I had left. As the approaching
train pulled up, stopping before us, we entered at the same
time, and sat down together — immediately becoming en-
gaged in conversation. The young lady seemed to be rather
quiet; but she looked more full of color, more radiant, than
she had seemed on other occasions. She was carrying a purse
(or handbag) and a larger bag containing her office needs and
the like, and these items attracted my attention — my eyes
being riveted on their brightness. The colors of the large
bag, especially, were quite vivid and seemed to be sur-
rounded by a ‘special’ glow. The meaning I am trying to
convey is one of extreme brightness, not actually more
colorful but really GLOWING. We were not sufficiently
closely acquainted to be talking about anything very serious
or intimate, merely carrying on a light conversation — prob-
ably both wishing the journey was over so that we could
quickly reach our respective homes. I had a beautiful silver
tabby cat waiting for me, and I knew he would be anxiously
awaiting my arrival; and he would be ready for supper so,
after alighting from the train we sauntered out of the station
and onto the street. I believe I asked her whether she was
going my way; but apparently she wasn't — and she simply
drifted away. Later that evening I mentioned the event to
the third person who had been in the office that afternoon
and how I had traveled with Miss Secretary. You can pic-
ture my surprise when I was told, ‘You could not possibly
have traveled with her for she was still in the office talking
to me:
What was it? An unsolved mystery? Not at all! Miss Sec-
retary was merely thinking very strongly about her own
affairs, and wanting to leave early, and she had used so
much thought power in the effort that she had made a ‘form’
and actually traveled out to the suburbs in such solid form
that she could be seen. This is not a rare occurrence for I
have read and heard of many similar instances; so I do not

86
find it strange — but just something of extreme interest. The
same very bright light was visible when my Silver Tabby
was preparing to make his final farewell and getting ready
to return to his heavenly home, and caused (I believe) by
unseen entities who came to assist in his passing.
Another time I was sitting in a bus in the Maida Vale
district of London. It was raining quite heavily and the bus
stopped to allow passengers to enter or leave the vehicle. I
was indulging in a bit of daydreaming, as usual, when sud-
denly I came back into focus at the sight of a young, at-
tractive woman just entering the vehicle. She was fair-haired
and wore an attractive headdress, and a coat light in color.
It seemed most strange that, although there was a real down-
pour at that time, this young person was completely dry — as
dry as if she had stepped right out of a beauty parlor; and
this surprised me! also the fact that she seemed to be en-
veloped in a ‘brightness’, which was missing as far as the
other passengers were concerned.

87
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NEW YEAR — 1975: A brand new year and already just

over one week has passed. In the light of experiences and
events it feels more like several weeks, and it is nice just to
sit down and record some of these happenings which are
now history. Over and over again the thought comes to
mind that really today is the only day which matters —
having done one's best in each situation one can look back
with satisfaction, and forward with anticipation to what
one hopes will be even greater achievements tomorrow,
which all too soon will be today.

Look to this day!

For it is life, the very life of life . . .
For yesterday is already a dream,
and tomorrow is only a vision;
But today, well lived, makes every yesterday
A dream of happiness, and every tomorrow
a vision of hope.

From the Sanskrit

With the New Year winter has really arrived in Calgary,

although Winnipeg is having a much worse time; but the
zero and sub-zero temperatures, with snow and strong
winds which we are experiencing, are just enough for me as
I get bundled up in warm clothing each morning at eight-
thirty in preparation for a walk to the post office to collect
our mail — a walk which I really enjoy. Today the local
newspaper comments that ‘Those who have been THINK-

88
ING “snow” will be rewarded, even if the price they pay will
be bone-chilling temperatures.’ Unwittingly perhaps, the
writer admits that Thought is Real, a form of energy which
has the power to make things happen. This is encouraging
for too often events are looked upon as ‘coincidence’. So, if
the newspaper makes such a statement, why gosh, it must be
true.
How many people just seem to act without much
thought, expecting all good things will come to them with-
out any effort on their part — not realizing that things
happen only when we plan them first in our minds. We have
to devote a great deal of thought power in our lives, other-
wise we are no more, or less, than vegetables; and it has
often been said that ‘we are what we think we are’. If we
think confidence, we radiate confidence, and others will be-
lieve in us; but if we are timid, undecided and changeable,
we transmit this atmosphere to those around us, leaving
worth cultivating.
The past ten days have been full of activity and of plan-
ning; full of action which has brought some quite satisfac-
tory results, including new acquaintances with like interests
to my own.
On Christmas Day I had paid my first visit to a Funeral
Home and witnessed the sadness of an acquaintance whose
husband had passed away. Just one week later I was asked
to assist in another case of sickness - this time a beautiful
Siamese Mother Cat. Nikki, a delightful Blue Point, had been
sick for some months and it had been decided that the time
had arrived when her discomfort and pain should come to
an end, and she should be allowed to go Home. The person
with whom Nikki had lived for around twelve years was
under great emotional stress, and she said she would appreci-
ate some assistance during this trying time. So, a comfort-
able carrying basket was prepared for this delicate little
creature and I went along to Shirley's house where she was
waiting with Mother Cat Nikki. All arrangements had been

89
made and we drove carefully to the Pet Hospital (the West-
side Hospital of course) where we were received with quiet
understanding. Having passed the basket over to Dr. R., the
veterinarian, we stayed until Nikki had quietly and peace-
fully passed on, to her Real Home, after which we made our
way back to our own Unreal homes — our temporary earth
abodes. In spite of the loss and accompanying sadness, we
were left with a warm feeling of achievement knowing that
Nikki, the little Mother Cat, would have no more pain and
discomfort from the tumors which had caused her to suffer
the trauma of surgery on several occasions; tumors which
had probably been caused through the consumption of too
many ‘pills’ when she was ‘calling’ and a delay of several
years before spaying, and then only because the authorities
decided the pills could be harmful.
At home Shirley has two male Seal Point Siamese, both of
them of a quite mature age. One, Nikki's son Ichabod — aged
ten years, and a Grampa Cat of sixteen years but who gives
the impression of being very much younger. He carries his
years very well, with dignity, and I was honored to meet
this Cat Family, who were most polite when I visited them
in their home. And I have been invited to call upon them
whenever I find it convenient — which I wish could be more
often.
If I were to give a title to the past week or so — the first
days of 1975, it would just have to be ‘Feline Affairs’ week.
On the first day of the year a man asked me if I knew
someone who would take his two Siamese cats because his
landlord was making his life difficult, not wanting him to
have pets in his house. Tiki and Shara, two Gentlemen Cats,
were around one year old, he told me. They were Seal Point
and very healthy, but if something could not be done very
quickly they would have to be sent off to the S.P.C.A.
Well, I had to make a number of telephone calls, and I
spoke to a number of acquaintances about the situation —
and came across quite a number of obstacles: Some people
were interested but wanted only one cat; some wanted
younger cats; others wanted this, and others that. I could not

90
bear to think of these two young cats being sent to the
S.P.C.A., and the possibility of them being ‘put to sleep’ was
something not to be contemplated. Something just had to be
done! But what?
After much negotiating, and temporary arrangements
made for the future, Shirley went with me to collect these
two fine specimens, Tiki and Shara, and helped me convey
them to the veterinary hospital for a check-up, etcetera.
They were to have their annual distemper and rabies' shots,
and were to be neutered since that is most essential for tom
cats who are going to be so-called ‘pets’. As we arrived at
their house (a few minutes late since we almost got lost
finding the place) they were waiting for us, and while driv-
ing to the Pet Hospital they displayed near-perfect manners;
and they were no trouble at all. I have been given to under-
stand they had received a good European disciplinary train-
ing, and everybody at the Pet Hospital was really excited at
the sight of them, with their dark seal coloring. Shirley was
very interested in a big female Siamese sitting in a big cage
and waiting to be shipped to Toronto, most likely by air,
where the Family were moving to a new home. Tiki and
Shara had shared their home with three teenaged girls who
would certainly miss their pets; and one was left with a
feeling of sadness at the apparent uncaring attitude of a
Landlord who would cause the disruption of two young
feline lives, a disorientation which could take a long time to
rectify.
Shara and Tiki are now in a temporary home (which may
prove to be permanent), with understanding persons, a
mother and daughter, who are quite intrigued with these
two boy cats — although they already have a Family of
Felines — and on the two occasions when I have visited them,
Tiki and Shara greeted me enthusiastically.
So, the first days of January kept me so busy that there
was no time to record the experiences until now.
But it is a nice time of the year for a number of reasons —
one of the most important is the bringing together of friends,
old and new; those who for one reason or another think

91
about us but never seem to get down to communicating —
other than by telepathy, which can at times have as much
effect as a letter. Such a person— is Gertrude Lavery, who lives
in Australia, and she has corresponded with me for about a
decade — or just a little less. Mrs. Lavery is of German origin
and at one time we communicated via a tape recorder, but
sickness and other commitments have intervened and now
we manage quite well with about two letters a year — at
Christmas and halfway through the year (on our respective
birthdays). This interesting person, with whom I have ex-
changed many thoughts, many ideas and experiences, now
lives in West Perth. She is very satisfied with her small apart-
ment, and Mr. and Mrs. Hyde (who own the building) have
been most kind and helpful — providing the greatest as-
sistance during Mrs. Lavery's difficult period of ill health.
And their Siamese cat, Cindy, often visits her and enjoys
sitting on her lap while she reads and writes letters. Appar-
ently Cindy is a very good Watch-Cat, and she won't allow
any other felines into the yard. She has been known to ter-
rify creatures who infringe on her territory, while they have
to take refuge on the limb of a tree. Mrs. Lavery has given
me permission to mention her in this story, even suggested
it, and I am very happy to do just that as I was to receive
last week her first letter of 1975. Mrs. Lavery has kept in
touch through the years and her encouraging letters have
cheered us in some of our darker moments.
Yes, we have had more than our share of ‘dark moments’,
and this is one reason I want to keep my story light — to
remember the pleasant times.
While on the subject of Australia I am reminded of
another delightful person, who wrote several letters to us
around the time that we first heard from Mrs. Lavery. This
person was also living in Australia and I remember her
particularly for the sympathy she showed at the time
of the Lady Ku-ei's last illness, which was caused by
the harassment of the media, and I will always remember
how she finished one of her letters, with the following
words:
92
 ‘Why do they (the Press) judge so harshly
that which they do not understand — for
judge you harshly they have.’

She was referring not only to the Press but also to various
individuals who, through jealousy and envy, had taken great
pains to egg them on.
Many times have I felt a glow of gratitude towards this
English person who was at that time living in Australia,
and often I have regretted losing contact with her — she who
was there at just the right moment.

93
 CHAPTER FIFI'EEN

THIS will be the third part of my story; a true story by the

way, and perhaps the pleasantest to record for I am going to
tell of our two present Felines — our Cat People of TODAY;
not yesterday, but of THIS DAY, and tomorrow, which soon
will be today.
At this stage, here in Calgary my personal private life
leaves nothing to be desired, but at the same time there is
more than a tinge of sadness — in the fact of the Guv’s ex-
treme sickness and the pain which he suffers at all times.
We are often told, and we read too, that a certain amount
of tension and stress is necessary for an individual to sur-
vive, to make progress, and that without this ‘tension’ we
would be in danger of collapsing. Well, in my opinion and in
the opinion of many others, Lobsang Rampa has suffered far
more than should be expected of anyone; and much of the
suffering could have been avoided if certain persons had at-
tended to their own affairs instead of meddling in other
people's business. It is very true that the more a person is
working for the good of others, the more the obstacles
appear and evil influences seem to fight for superiority.
Only this morning I heard from England that all kinds of
people are putting out all kinds of stories; first time authors
are going along with the news media and cashing in on what
they have persuaded themselves is a bit of sensation, a bit of
scandal, thereby hoping to secure for themselves a bit of
temporary fame. I had not intended to introduce any of this
into my story but I have been so disgusted at the things I
have heard that my conscience tells me if I did not utter a
word of protest I might just as well be condoning the acts of
those who `write’ saying Lobsang Rampa is a phony — a

94
fake. It cannot be reiterated too often that his books are
absolutely true; they are all his own experiences, and he and
his works are accepted by enlightened Tibetans; the pre-
sent Dalai Lama on occasion sending him encouraging mess-
ages, the latest being a few weeks ago through a mutual
acquaintance in the United States of America. The severest
of his critics must agree that he has something; it shows by
the number of his books which have been sold and the
number of persons who have been helped through them.
These facts speak for themselves. It has been pointed out to
us quite often that those who make the biggest noise are
those who have never read the Rampa books and have no
idea what they are about. It makes me sad that so much of
this criticism originates in England, a country which the rest
of the world has so long looked upon as an example of right
thinking and right living. A certain section of the British, in
spite of their apparent aloofness and fair-play attitude, are
inclined to revel in sensational stories — not necessarily accu-
rate, and more often than not anything but — I should
know, having spent a good part of my life on that little
island, and learned from experience. Some of the news-
papers, especially the Sunday issues, can be really hair-rais-
ing, and once they get hold of a subject they tend to adopt a
‘flog a dead horse’ attitude; and the great reading public (the
number is obvious if one checks on the number of copies
sold), which consists of the greater part of the population,
enjoys it ‘to the death’.
When I lived in Ireland a British pressman told me that
truth and accuracy are secondary in importance when re-
porting — what really matters is the sensational value,
whether it results in sickness, or even suicide, for the victim.
The Pressman must have his story even if he has to ‘fiction-
alize.’ Probably small countries suffer from this much more
than the larger areas of the world where, one hopes, the
people have bigger minds and give the individual a chance to
vindicate himself. An Englishman, Mr. Cyrus Brooks, once
volunteered the remark, when we had commented upon the
adverse and unwarranted publicity we were receiving, ‘Oh

95
well, an author stands up to be shot at.’ Well, it is the
opinion of many people that Lobsang Rampa has received
more than his share of shotgun blasts — mainly caused
through hate and spite.
Some years ago we contemplated living on a much
smaller island even, the smallest island in the English Chan-
nel. We were in communication with the late Sybil Hatha-
way, the Dame of Sark, who ruled over that little island.
There was an accommodation problem so the idea fell
through, but I often thought it would have been nice to live
in a place away from automobiles, buses, and all power-
drawn vehicles such as Sark island offered. On the other
hand, I wonder whether we would have found the peace we
were looking for, in a community that was little more than
a village. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I enjoy Calgary,
for here no one bothers us — we are left to live out our lives
in whichever way suits us best. The people here must be
amongst the most friendly in all of this large contingent, and
it is interesting to see their smile of appreciation when they
realize that one is a Canadian Citizen.
Cleo and Taddy, the Seal Point and Blue Point Siamese
people are Canadian-born, of course, and they are futuristic
felines, being born in the Constellation of Aquarius. Since
they will be celebrating their respective birthdays towards
the end of this month, it seems a most appropriate time to
bring them into my story. They have brought much joy into
this household, and we have a lot of fun together. Cleo, the
little one (scraggy by Taddy's standards), is the most under-
standing Cat Person we have met. And Taddy, the big Fat
Cat, need’s a great deal of my attention and encouragement,
not being quite so self-confident as her sister. I must point out
that of course these two are the Guv's cats as well as mine
but, really, it might be more accurate to look upon ourselves
as ‘their cats’. Cleo has a delightful sense of humor, and to
see her put her little face up close to the Guv's ear and blow
into his hearing aid is quite an amusing sight, as when she is
sitting somewhere on high and reaches down to give me a
light touch with her paw, being careful not to bonk me too

96
hard, for I understand she would not like to upset her Ma
who I am proud to say she holds in high regard.
These two Cat Persons are as well-behaved as any
creatures I have ever met, and probably better behaved than
most. Just to show how well, I must relate the following —
On these January nights, with their lower temperatures, I
sometimes feel the cold in my bones, and since my bedroom
faces North it never gets warmth from the sun. Therefore, I
use an electric pad which warms the bed before I retire, and
does the same should I wake up feeling chilly during the
night.
Cleo often sits on the pad (which is covered by a sheet and
a blanket) a little while before bed-time, and occasionally
she drops off to sleep while she waits for me. The moment I
am ready for bed myself this little cat will come sufficiently
awake to trundle off to her own bed, sometimes shooting off
like a bird, where she and Taddy have a hot water bottle to
keep them warm.
This delightful gesture of Cleo's really impresses me — her
supreme consideration for others; but that seems to be her
whole attitude to life — to cause as little trouble as possible,
and to help others whenever she can.
Taddy has a slightly different approach to life, believing
herself to be a rather grumpy old biddy; but her Ma holds a
rather different opinion of the Big Fat Cat who weighs
around twice as much as her sister, Cleopatra. Taddy would
be the first to agree that Taddy's main interest in life is
FOOD, and I understand she believes herself to be UNDER-
FED also.
Sometimes when I am reading in bed or listening to the
radio, Fat Cat will come and plonk herself beside me, resting
her paws on my arm so that I am unable to move, and there
she will stay for perhaps half-an-hour; then she will go off to
visit the Guv and check to see if adequate food has been left
out for the night — ‘for the cats’. A little later she returns and
decides to relax a little by sitting on the pillow behind my
head, arms folded and a look of bliss upon her sweet face.
The other day someone gave me a tape recording from the

97
Jonathan Livingston Seagull film, so the three of us have
been spending many enjoyable moments imagining we are
sky-birds flying high with Jonathan Seagull, who laid that
beautiful story written about him.
Cleo and Taddy take their duties very seriously and many
times each night they wander off to visit the Guv, trying to
cheer him and hoping to ease his pain with their purrs of
affection, showing him how they care about his well-being.
They have been known to take turns ‘on duty’, and when the
Guv is more sick than usual they are very concerned indeed.
During the past two nights Miss Taddy has been putting in
extra hours because she has been very worried lest the Guv
was about to leave us. Oh yes, Taddy puts on an apparently
gruff exterior but, in reality, she is possessed of a really nice
and kind nature; and she is aided greatly by a most devoted
and intelligent Cleo Cat. I understand Taddy is very proud
of her knowledgeable sister, of the graceful curves and agile
movements, and that when she refers to the ‘skinny cat’ she
is merely making the remark in fun.

98
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THERE must be no greater lovers of riding in an auto-

mobile than Siamese cats. Perhaps other types enjoy it too,
but most of my experience has been with Siamese, and they
were all fascinated with it. Fifi Greywhiskers was an ex-
ception, but she had traveled around so much in unhappy
circumstances and conditions that, in the end, HOME was all
she wanted. The Silver Tabby (of pre-Ku'ei days) objected
most strongly when taken into a small Morris Minor car.
Yesterday we went for a drive towards the foothills, it
being in the form of a celebration birthday party for Cleo
and Taddy — for where would you find a S'mese inviting
other S'meses, or any other kind of cat, to visit them. So — a
drive seemed appropriate and we enjoyed it immensely.
It was the first time I had viewed the city from such a
height and the atmosphere was so pollution-free that we
could see everything in detail, from the television building
on the Hill to the Calgary Tower (the mainland mark was
clearly visible), as well as the many high-rise apartment
buildings — one of which is our temporary home.
Cleo enjoyed herself by sitting on the rear window, arms
folded, and looking into the car; while Taddy ‘hiked’ around
under and over the seats, muttering occasionally when she
stubbed a toe.
Many drivers and their passengers showed interest in the
Little Cat, and as we would pause at intersections she was
pointed out a number of times.
On the way home we called to see Tiki and Shara, and
Mrs. Potter who looks after them, along with the other
felines. At present she has a litter of Siamese kittens, and
they all yelled together — then purred, putting their paws

99
out in greeting (Siamese cats are very polite if you treat
them civilly, as intelligent persons). Of course I left Cleo and
Taddy in the car with the driver and went into the house
alone. Mrs. Potter cares for a number of cats, of different
types, and her so-called ‘Cattery’ is one of the happiest
places and best appointed I have ever heard of. The big
‘cages’ are two-floor affairs, and the inhabitants use a ladder
covered with carpeting to ascend or descend from one floor
to another. Tiki and Shara have settled down extremely well
and it is quite likely that Mrs. Potter will adopt them per-
manently.
During the past few days, and seeing how Cleo and Taddy
have become such beautiful creatures, I have been reminded
of the time they first arrived into our household. Poor Little
People! Rather undersized and somewhat afraid, I had
brought them to Fort Erie from Niagara Falls one Sunday
morning. Two weeks earlier I had gone to see these Little
People with their sisters and brothers, and it had been my
responsibility to choose them. We had already decided upon
the Blue Point, who we were later to name Tadalinka; so I
had to choose another creature to accompany her. I was told
that the Little Cleopatra (who was named already) had near-
perfect markings for a Seal Point and that I could take her if
I wished, otherwise she would be kept for breeding pur-
poses. So the matter was settled. But the Little People were
two weeks short of being able to leave their Cat Mother
and therefore arrangements were made to return for them
two weeks later, and I was given to understand that those
two stayed close together during the whole of the waiting
period.
After the departure of Miss Ku'ei it had not occurred to
me to consider having any more cats because the situation
was quite unsettled as far as our movements were concerned
we were not sure where we were going to be living.
Another problem was the frequent ban on having a pet in an
apartment complex, and this was a cause of much concern.
We were to have more problems in this respect a few years
later when we moved to Western Canada where, in British

100
Columbia (Vancouver and Victoria, on the Island par-
ticularly), there is an almost total ban on having a pet. You
could not be much worse off if you had the plague — you
make a few inquiries and call upon one Superintendent after
another and are offered a nice comfortable place, situated
fairly high, with an attractive view, and within the price
range you have set for yourself. Then, ‘Come along, Ma'am,
I will take you up in the elevator and I am sure you will not
be disappointed.’ I accompany Mr. Superintendent and we
chat amiably, each of us weighing up the other; and we view
the premises together; and then I am ready to discuss the
project in more detail. Eventually, and before getting too
involved, I casually mention my two well-behaved little
Lady Cats. And then comes the bombshell: ‘Sorry, Ma'am,
no pets allowed by order of the Company. It is Com-
pany policy.’ The atmosphere has changed and Mr Superin-
tendent suddenly finds he has many things awaiting his
attention and he cannot get away fast enough. It was for
this reason that we found ourselves in Calgary, where Cleo
and Taddy are more than welcome in our present home; but
I understand that even in this city it is sometimes a bit
difficult getting settled into accommodation if you have a
Cleo or a Taddy. Just before leaving Vancouver we were
attracted to a desirable location which offered a Penthouse,
with a good view of the sea; so we experienced a short
period of hopefulness. This time it was the janitor's wife
who showed me around, and she was most friendly and
anxious to have us because she said they were tired of rent-
ing to younger persons with ‘their noisy parties and rock'n
roll mentality, and all that goes with it’. Especially did they
need quiet tenants because the people in the adjoining Pent-
house were rather important; they had been there for some-
time and already there had been some annoyance through
previous fellow tenants causing a disturbance on the com-
municating patios.
‘You are just the type of people we want,’ said Mrs. Care-
taker ‘who don't make too much noise and so cause less
trouble for us.’ ‘That's just fine,’ I answered ‘but you know

101
we have two “pets”, two Siamese Ladies,’ and I observed her
reactions as I made the announcement. She made no secret
of the fact that in her mind we would be a most desirable
family to have in her building, so I was counting on it rather
strongly. After giving the matter a few seconds con-
sideration she suggested we just take the cats into the apart-
ment as quietly as possible, not mentioning about them to
anyone, assuming that once inside they would never need to
be taken out until we were leaving the place. What to do
about the patio was not mentioned, and I imagined the scene
if Cleo and Taddy were to wander into the neighbors' quar-
ters, unannounced, when cats were not even allowed into
the building.
Apparently the Rental Manager, who was off duty (other-
wise he would have interviewed me), was not in a position
to allow pets so Mrs. Janitor warned me not to mention
anything about it to him when we would sign the lease; so I
told her I would have to discuss the matter with the other
members of my Family and then I would contact her again.
Naturally the Guv would not agree to such an arrangement.
He would not take his Cat Children ‘though the back door’.
They would enter openly with us or we would give up the
idea altogether, which we did; and, as I mentioned, that was
one of the reasons we took off for Calgary, which proved
to be somewhat more humanitarian — or should it be
‘humane’?
Oh dear, there I go digressing again! But now let us return
and pick up the loose threads which we left in Fort Erie.
Following the time that Sindhi had left us we had been
beset by many difficulties, which finally resulted in our
making a journey to South America where we hoped things
would improve. While the trip was most educational it
proved to be anything but a happy period. Certainly the
climate of Uruguay was pleasant, without extremes of tem-
perature, so it was fortunate that by the time we set foot in
Canada again Spring was already with us.
During that summer in Fort Erie, Miss Ku'ei and I spent
many moments strolling along the street outside the small

102
dwelling where we were living. Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers had
passed on some time before, thus Ku'ei felt a great sense of
loss; and this loneliness for her adopted sister brought us
closer together, but often when we were enjoying our walks
in the warm sunshine I felt an urge to provide for her as
much companionship as possible because I had a feeling, a
premonition if you like, that it would probably be the last
summer we would spend together; which, unhappily,
proved correct.
She struggled through the following Fall and Winter
months, and the following Spring, as the days began to
lengthen she seemed to be a little brighter — to be improving
a little. Naturally I was very happy about this; but my joy
was short-lived for, suddenly, sadness tinged our lives once
again, with disastrous results for my Ku'ei Cat.
A Press reporter arrived from the local newspaper to tell
us about an incident which had occurred in England and he
wanted to see what we had to say about it. A young man
had committed suicide, and while that in itself was not un-
common, it seemed that one of Lobsang Rampa's books had
been found in the young man's room, along with works by
other writers no doubt, but apparently none so well-known
as the Guv; therefore not so newsworthy.
Just tailor-made for the Press though, and with a fair
amount of encouragement from one or two private persons
who considered they had ‘an axe to grind’, the affair was
blown up out of all proportion to the actual facts.
Fortunately, having been forewarned, we were not too
surprised or startled when, towards the evening of the same
day, another Pressman appeared at our door. Oh, yes, he was
a middle-aged individual who appeared full of concern for
us, being quick to accept our hospitality and, on the surface,
a typical friendly Canadian.
The story he told was that he had been to the Niagara
Falls area ‘on a case’ and as he was driving along, preparing
for the return journey to Toronto, he had received a tele-
phone message in his car. He said his Head Office had told
him there was a news item in the offing and, since he was in

103
the area, he may as well call and investigate it. All very
casual on the surface. Apparently he had shown little
interest in the project, which anyway was going to delay his
arrival home in Toronto, until he suddenly realized it was
something to do with the author of ‘The Third Eye’ which
was causing the interest; so then, he said he was ‘turned on’.
It was after that interview at Fort Erie that I vowed I
would never again cooperate with a newspaper man or
woman, after the way this one accepted our hospitality
professing friendship and understanding of the situation and
leaving with a promise of sympathetic coverage, together
with a book by the author which he said he was sure he
would enjoy reading. The next day we were greeted with a
report which we might never have recognized except for
one or two remarks, and the author's autographed volume
having been included in the ‘copy’ with the caption, ‘The
Murder Book’.
Yes, apparently a nice family man, brimming over with
sympathy and understanding — returning again two days
later to complete his investigation, but not receiving such a
friendly reception — and there disappeared any confidence I
might ever have felt towards ANY news reporter.
Miss Ku'ei, having seen this type of thing happen again
and again during her comparatively long life, just gave up
and her condition rapidly deteriorated until she could no
longer withstand the lies and deceit, the treachery and mis-
representation of the facts — man's inhumanity to man
which to so-called ‘dumb animals’ is beyond comprehension
— and so she left us.
Was it coincidence I wonder that, before too long, that
particular newspaper left us also. It ceased publication and
is no longer in circulation—
Anyway, I have often given a thought to that particular
reporter — without admiration.
Ours was not an isolated case of harassment and from
what one learns the situation is not getting any better. Just
today I read a comment by Lauren Bacall, the screen and
stage star who surely has led an exemplary life, and there

104
seems no reason that she should be maligned by the media.
Like many of us she has suffered many difficulties and set-
backs not of her own making; and she was a great help to
her husband, Humphrey Bogart, during the critical days of
his terminal illness.
Regarding the Press, she has this to say: ‘Probably the
most infuriating things are the lies they tell about you. I
don't understand why people make up such stories. Does it
make them feel important?’ (McCall's — February 1975).
With Miss Bacall, many of us are left with no answer
unless it is that newspapers sell in greater number if they
concentrate on SENSATION and FICTION, rather than the
TRUTH.

105
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

How often have I proved the truth of the saying that

‘every cloud has its silver lining’. Just when everything
appears at its blackest, there, on the horizon, glows a ray of
sunshine and hope.
Suddenly we were confronted with an unpleasant situ-
ation, although the whole affair had really been nothing at
all to do with us, and this situation led to the loss of my
dearest companion, The Lady Ku'ei.
I grieved for myself. I was very lonely without her
company, though she was much better off having gone to
join Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers and Miss Sindhi, and all the
others who were there waiting for her to return Home.
Showing a selfish attitude I did not enjoy being left alone
and I did not want to experience such a situation again. I
reasoned that if I did decide to have another creature, inevit-
ably I would have to repeat this experience one day — as-
suming I lived that long. The next one would leave and once
more I would be overcome with grief. Then, as the picture
became a little clearer, and feeling a little less selfish for a
moment, I thought: ‘Supposing MY life-span should prove to
be shorter than that of another Cat Person! What would
become of the creature who by then would have become
used to MY ways and the ways of MY household?’
Eventually, after much thought and discussion with the
Family, I saw that perhaps all these obstacles may only be
excuses and that here was another opportunity for helping
Cat People who need to get their earth experience just as we
humans do, otherwise they would not be placed down here.
If I could help to make life easier, even for one of them, then
surely it would be worthwhile. So eventually I decided to go

106
ahead with plans for finding a Little Person. And my search
ended when I met those two, Cleopatra the Seal Point Siam-
ese, and Tadalinka the Blue Point Siamese, and they pro-
vided the silver lining to the dark clouds. This was just what
we needed, but once more our peace had been disturbed and
again our lives were not our own.
Various reporters, fiction, or rather ‘feature’ writers,
whose work might at times appear more fictional than fact,
kept appearing at our door, all wanting to tell a story, and
life was becoming quite unbearable for us.
Again we had to review the situation, and it was obvious
we would have to consider making a further move, some-
thing not one of us was happy about since we had barely
settled down following our South American experience. To
those who say, ‘It must be wonderful moving around all the
time, seeing fresh places and getting to know different
people’, I would tell them: ‘Don't you believe it, for unless
you are absolutely compelled to do so the time taken in
physical and mental energy, the cost of moving, and the
things which get ‘lost’ or damaged in transit, added to the
problem of arranging a new home (an accommodation
address in our case, which is usually a post office box), and
making oneselves known to the business people, etcetera,
can leave one quite exhausted.’ You might ask, ‘Why a P.O.
Box. Can't you have your mail sent to your home? Why run
around making extra work for yourselves when the mail-
man will go to your door?’ To that I can only say that it does
not work because we have tried it. When we lived in the
Montreal area we thought we would take a chance and use
our private address, which we did to our regret. People
would just wander around the grounds of Habitat and look
for us, especially on Sunday afternoons. They wanted to
meet Lobsang Rampa, the well-known author, and they
thought it was just a matter of asking and they would have
immediate access to him; and of course they were quite sur-
prised and disappointed when they had to leave without
seeing him. One amusing experience comes to my mind, and
this was a case of two young readers of the Guv's books. One

107
day when he was out these two arrived at the door; they
were quite pleasant and well-mannered and, I believe, they
were just temporary visitors to Montreal, having traveled
from the U.S.A. It is not easy to deter young people these
days; they wanted to sit on the steps outside to await the
return of Lobsang Rampa — the object of their visit. At last I
persuaded them that it would be foolish to wait since their
presence would not be exactly welcome; but not before they
spied a pair of shoes just inside the door, exclaiming, “Tell
us, are those his shoes.” As they walked away, looking quite
disappointed, I felt sorry for their wasted journey.
Well it was a good thing all was quiet when the Guv
returned because he gave me to understand that I had done
well to shoo away the visitors because they would not have
been at all welcome. Still, I knew just how they felt, and
later they wrote a nice letter of apology for disturbing us.
As will often happen in life, something good comes along
just when we seem to have come up against a blank wall,
and this was one of those times. Knowing that if we were to
stay on in Fort Erie, especially in the same accommodation
(and there was little choice, for rented houses or apartments
were at a premium in those days), we could not expect to be
left alone. We felt it was essential to make other arrange-
ments, and quickly.
But what could we do! In which direction might we turn
Feeling less than cheerful, I went around to the Post Office
to buy some stamps and post some packages, and while I
waited my turn at the counter I heard a voice behind me
which seemed familiar. I turned around to see who it was
and there stood a young matron who I had not seen for quite
a while. I felt a bit more cheerful while chatting with Lillian
who always had an encouraging attitude to life. We talked
for a few minutes and then I happened to mention that we
contemplated having a change moving to a fresh location,
and to my surprise she was able to make a suggestion. It
seemed she had contacts about three hundred miles away —
far up the St. Lawrence River, near the city of Brockville,
and still in Ontario. She gave me an address and a telephone

108
number, so after a quick ‘thank you’ and a quicker ‘good-
bye’, I hurried home with the good news. At last it seemed
that we may have found a place which would suit us, tem-
porarily at least, and I personally felt that so-called ‘fate’
had not deserted us.
Fate! Or an interested entity! I am inclined to believe the
latter for, while Lillian and I were together talking, I had the
strongest impression of Miss Ku'ei. It seemed that SHE was
responsible for arranging that meeting in the Post Office, and
during all the intervening years I have continued to believe
it was so. Miss Ku'ei and Lillian had saved the day for us and
we were to enjoy a period of peace and calm during the
ensuing months.
It must be quite difficult to arrange things down on our
materialistic earth, where we hardly dare allow ourselves to
believe, or contemplate, anything which we cannot see or
prove.
It has been explained by the Guv that one can liken it to
the act of trying to put a phonograph needle on a certain
part of a disc, hoping to touch the right place. To arrange for
two persons to be at the same place at the same time can
prove quite a feat — the rate of vibration of a discarnate
entity is much more rapid than ours on the earth plane and
it is not exactly a simple matter to just make something
happen at a certain time.
So many happenings are attributed to so-called CHANCE,
coincidence, or blind fate. But if our senses were a bit
more ‘alert’ we would realize that most things are planned.
Of course we have free choice in our actions, within certain
limits, but it is how we think and how we act that deter-
mines what happens to us. This I know from absolute per-
sonal experience, for if I were feeling dispirited and gloomy
everything would go wrong and the atmosphere would be
radiated to those with whom I might come into contact — to
those around me. On the other hand, when I have felt cheer-
ful, contented and happy, everything would go right. If I
went on a shopping expedition the articles I bought would
be harmonious and satisfactory, while an unhappy mood

109
would produce the most terrible results — wrong colors and
wrong styles in the way of clothes or furnishing for the
home. One particular time, I was having new eye-glasses and
while the lens might have been fine the color of frames I
had chosen were atrocious — for me; so dull that they looked
dowdy, and certainly they did nothing for me. Another
time, I purchased some house slippers while in a blue mood
and they were of a most unpleasant style, not suitable at all.
This sort of thing happens very rarely these days, I am
happy to relate, for I feel more equable than ever before in
my life. Therefore, I am less likely to make a mistake in
judgment.
Since I have been guided into the way of what I call
‘Right Living’, I have seen and learned many things which
previously I had just taken for granted, thus missing many
of the more real joys of life.

110
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MOVING one's home (as I believe I have mentioned before)

is, to many people, a traumatic experience, and in our cir-
cumstances it definitely was no picnic for my household.
Sometimes, in my idle moments, I would count up all the
different homes where I had found myself at various times in
my life. It was easily a good runner up with sheep-counting,
if one had difficulty in inducing sleep and one had tried
everything else. It was quite interesting to visit again, in my
mind, some of the nice places and some not so nice, but each
interesting in its own way; and I enjoyed recalling some of
the associations I had made throughout my life.
There was the experience of quite young days, trying to
ride a bicycle on a country road where I had to mount the
machine on the grassy slope at the side of the road and, if
possible, dismount the same way — unless I had fallen off in
the meantime. ‘Why all the fuss?’ you may ask. Well I
learned to ride on a man's bicycle since that was all there
was available, and I never managed to get onto the thing in
the accepted manner. However, I managed in the end to
transport myself from one place to another, often ‘losing my
head’ in an emergency and riding over small stones or any-
thing else I might try to avoid. My sense of direction and
balance would never win me a diploma, that was certain.
A certain charming gentleman of the district used to take
a walk with his wife each evening and apparently he de-
rived much interest and amusement in watching me while I
engaged in the difficult maneuvers. However, I could forgive
him for what I then considered his misplaced mirth, for this
gentleman, who has now passed on, gave me a great deal of
encouragement and guidance at a time when it was most

111
needed and the association helped me to understand what
life was all about; and for this I have always felt kindly
towards this man — one of my earliest mentors.
Although I did not realize it at the time, I see, on looking
back, that I must have been something of a tomboy — and I
was always falling and getting cuts and bruises. A few years
later, after I had become a rather better bicycle operator, I
decided I would like to try my luck on a motorcycle so I
‘conned’ a friend into letting me try. It was a nice sensation
but I decided to stick to my ‘cycle’ as I had by then ac-
quired a machine more in keeping with ‘a lady’ (with
strings over the spokes of the rear wheel, which protected
my clothing).
How these things stay in one's consciousness, having been
indelibly impressed in the formative years. And there is
another mini-story I must relate, for anything which can
make us smile is worth recording — provided the amusement
is not at the expense of another person's feelings: In my
youth I was a regular churchgoer, sometimes twice on a
Sunday but invariably once, as well as Sunday school in the
afternoon. Often we had lay preachers taking the service
because the Minister in charge of the diocese could not be in
all the places at once. Some of our lay preachers had a most
interesting message for the congregation, and I have always
thought of one man in particular because he was such a
good God-fearing person and, what was most import-
ant, he ‘practiced what he preached’ which was a simple
and straightforward way of life. He was employed by a
farmer in the capacity of ‘shepherd’, which occupation ap-
pealed to us children for wasn't he in the same occupation as
that of his Master, his Leader, the entity whose concepts he
followed? Yes, he was indeed a faithful disciple of the Good
Shepherd, and for this he was respected. But it was not al-
together for this reason that the memory of Old John has
stayed with me; it was his natural manner — so friendly and
genuine; and he spoke in just the same style whether he met
one in the street or whether he was delivering a sermon. One
Sunday morning, when he had been designated to take the

112
service, everything went as usual and we were enjoying the
hymns and the prayers — and then we came to the sermon.
Perhaps we had been a little late in starting the meeting, or
the hymns might have taken longer than usual, or the
prayers; after which we sat back to enjoy the discourse,
ready to listen to John's theme for the day. He had been
expounding his views for some minutes when suddenly he
took out his watch from his vest pocket and announced, ‘My
goodness, it's late! I must not be too long for my Sarah Ann
will have the dinner ready.’ So the service finished quite
promptly, with John the shepherd hurrying home to his
Sarah Ann and no-one minding; instead, everybody loved
him for his simple manner. This delightful old gentleman
left his earthly shell many years ago but I will always retain
a soft spot in my heart towards him. It seemed to please him
that I had the same name as his wife, and when he saw me
coming along the road towards him he would call out hap-
pily, ‘Ah, here comes our Sarah Ann!’
And so, one pauses to contemplate, ‘Where would we all
be without our fond memories of past days?’ They sure help
to improve the present, and make a better TODAY.
So, there it was; soon we were making plans for the next
important step in our lives, all the time wondering what this
Tomorrow had in store for us. Cleo and Taddy were barely
four months old, and they had been with us less than two of
those months — barely time to get settled into the Family
Routine. But even at that early age they were very alert, and
once I very nearly suffered a heart attack where I couldn't
find them anywhere in the apartment. Eventually, having
searched in every other place, I had the stove pulled away
from the wall in the kitchen and, with a sigh of relief, I saw
those two miniature kittens emerging, looking surprised and
slightly the worse for wear. They were such tiny creatures,
even for kittens of their age, and that is why I called them
‘miniature’.
It was fortunate that this time the proprietor of the store
where we had bought our furniture was willing to take back
everything. It was all in such good condition, and had been

113
purchased so recently, that he had nothing to lose — de-
ducting just enough to cover the cost of getting the goods
back (although he had his own van), plus a little more to
cover his ‘overheads’; and he would still make a profit, he
said. This arrangement was a great relief to us, and we were
more than satisfied with the arrangement. Since we were
going to be living in furnished accommodations again we had
only our personal belongings to transfer, and as we had not
had a preview of the place it was deemed wisest to take as
little as possible, giving us more room to move around, as-
suming there was that much space available.
For two nights before the journey it was necessary to stay
in the Hotel at Fort Erie because we would be without fur-
niture, linen, or anything, if we had stayed in the apartment.
The arrangement was awkward, but unavoidable, because
the furniture was taken away two days before we left, while
our personal things (suitcases, etcetera) would not be going
until the evening before our trip to Prescott — our final desti-
nation. However, it all worked out satisfactorily; and in any
case we couldn't have done much about it when the store
proprietor was, in a way, doing us a favor, and we had to
have the removal van on the only day it was available.
Difficult though it is to have to break up one's home,
there are a few compensations — the most important being
the wonderful feeling of ‘freedom’: Freedom from too many
possessions, and freedom from getting into a rut. After all,
there is still truth in the old saying, ‘It's an ill wind that
profits no-one.’ So, indirectly, the press had propelled us out
from a certain amount of security, and forward into an as
yet unknown future with its unexplored experiences. The
price had been costly; not only the loss of a loved creature,
but financially; for even in our grief we have to live and
sustain ourselves physically.
It entailed a certain amount of waiting, on each of those
two days, before everything was cleared away from the
apartment, so I was able to exercise my mental processes
(which had become somewhat ‘rusty’ during the past
months while we had been marking time). What a strange

114
feeling to be sitting amongst a pile of suitcases and other
packages, together with the furniture. And after the fur-
niture had been taken, it was even more strange to be in an
empty apartment with only one's personal goods. Have you
ever noticed how an empty room ‘echoes’? And how such
weird impressions pervade the atmosphere?
I relived some of our experiences of the past year, and
even further back — back to the time of the writing of ‘The
Third Eye’ when we had been living in MOST DIFFICULT
conditions. I often marveled how that book was ever writ-
ten — the Guv typing while an irate neighbor banged on the
adjoining wall because the typewriter was aggravating her
nerves. In spite of all the obstacles, I could still recall a few
pinpoints of shining light which were made possible by the
Guv's patience and sense of humor; AND Miss Ku'ei with
her own particular sparkle.
For some reason my thoughts kept dwelling on the kind-
ness and tolerance of the Guv: How understanding he had
been when my Silver Tabby had passed on; how he ex-
plained that, although the grief was mine, I was making it
difficult for Mr. T. Cat to settle down in his new sur-
roundings while I mourned for him. The Guv had taken me
from the suburbs of London into the city to get a Cat maga-
zine, where we could find an advertisement for Siamese
kittens. He had not been feeling well, and I was not very
interested in the venture, but eventually I began to see the
sense of his suggestion and acted upon it. As usual the Guv
knew best, and this resulted in the arrival of the Lady Ku'ei,
who proved such a blessing to us — a definite one-person cat
who careered around the curtains and furniture, and who
(when I was alone with her) would let out a low growl,
almost like a dog. We had been quite concerned, on the
second day after her arrival, when we realized she had
climbed a good way up the living room chimney. With the
use of a mirror we could see her sitting there on a protruding
ledge — refusing to be coaxed down and too far up the chim-
ney for us to reach her. In the end the Guv had to drill a hole
through the outside wall and make a space big enough for

115
her to be reached and brought out. Quite amusing in retro-
spect but not so funny at the time.
I often envied the ability of the Guv and Miss Ku'ei to
communicate so perfectly by telepathy; but I was fortunate
in receiving any messages which were of special interest, and
any which were meant for me. In those days of Miss Ku'ei's
early life we had many creatures in our garden—baby shrews
and mother shrews, and a delightful mole, with her young. It
was a great pleasure to watch these people from our window.
One day a neighbor cat, or was it a ‘stray’ had wandered
into the garden. Somehow it had got caught on the wire
fencing dividing the gardens, and since it wore a collar it
was unlikely that it was a stray. There it was — in a most
undesirable situation; and if the Guv had not hurried out and
rescued it, soon it would have been a dead cat — hanged by
its own collar. And there was the starling who had been
injured, and who was hidden amongst the foliage — almost
ready for leaving this life. The Guv had stroked it . . . spoke
to it . . . and helped it on its way to happier pastures. He
explained to me that the bird could now depart knowing
there was still LOVE and COMPASSION to be had amongst
earth people — and thus the little creature would adjust all
the more quickly to its next stage of existence.
I have often thought of the shelter that trees and other
foliage have provided for nature creatures in their distress —
for trees, especially, have far greater powers than is believed
by the majority of people, not only physically but in the
way of intelligence. Trees definitely are thinking entities, of
a high order.
As I dwelt upon memories of nature people, I remembered
the time in South America when the Guv was standing by
the window — looking out. When I inquired the reason for
his sad expression, he remarked that he was just watching a
bird who was coasting around trying to find a place to die.
By telepathy, the Guv knew that the bird's nest had been
destroyed by vandals and the bird had lost the will to live.
So, I thought, telepathy, too acute, can be a two-edged
weapon.

116
 Soon it would be time to leave the apartment, so I must
not take too much more time with my reminiscences . . .
but, before my eyes came the picture of a little rabbit which
I had as a child. Somehow it found its way through a hole in
an old sofa and disappeared into the interior, and my
mother told me later that I wept the whole night through,
wondering at the fate of my pet. But now time was passing;
the suitcases and everything had been taken away to the
station — so I would have to go too. Taking a last look
around, locking the door, and leaving the keys with the
Landlord nearby, I wandered over to check the luggage at
the baggage department of the Canadian National Railroad
Station, and then made my way to the Hotel to join the
others. We were all tired and needed a good rest in prepa-
ration for the next day's journey. That night it was not ne-
cessary to count either sheep or houses — my relief was so
great that we were finally ready, and sleep beckoned with
open arms.

117
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE Thousand Islands — a real wonderland; and that was

the district we were bound for. I have often marveled that
the name was not immortalized in some other manner than
that of salad dressing. ‘What kind of dressing would you like
with the salad, ma'am?’ is the frequently asked question on
visiting a restaurant. If one is slow to answer the inquiry is
followed by, The Thousand Islands, perhaps?’; and because
it is so well known and palatable — which accounts for its
popularity — that is what one takes in the end. Still, I think
those beautiful and historical islands are worthy of being
associated with something more inspiring than mere food.
You don't agree with me! Well, we are all entitled to our
own opinion and I stick to mine.
It was a glorious day for traveling, and the flight did not
take long, but we had to start out from Fort Erie by car for
we took off from Welland, some miles away. There was no
airport at Fort Erie, but the car ride was no problem. Miss
Cleo and Miss Taddy did not like the noise of the plane; but
now they are well-seasoned travelers, and that was the first
of many trips by road, rail and air. The aforesaid remark
brings to mind a radio program from England during the
days of the second world war. The participants, it would be
announced, had arrived by land, sea and air; and the name of
the program was ‘In Town Tonight’, prepared by Peter
Duncan — a very well-known radio personality. Sorry,
another digression! So, back to the events of the day.
It was around three o'clock in the afternoon when we
reached another non-commercial airport, near the city of
Brockville, because Prescott being somewhat smaller did not

118
have one, and from Brockville we had to drive the ten or
twelve miles to our destination.
Yes, the Cat People had completed their first flight . . . .
and in the years to follow there would be more. I thought it
fortunate that by reason of the day of their birth they ought
eventually prove to become excellent travelers, especially
air travelers, for is not the sign of Aquarius one of the
three airy signs, and very futuristic?
Personally I enjoy flying, but the others of the family
(human especially) are not so enamored with it. However,
it was a case of Hobson’s choice for there was no train be-
tween the two points, and a journey by road would have
been too exhausting for all of us, taking about six hours,
perhaps more. and the best route would have been through
part of the U.S.A. which might have posed a few extra prob-
lems. So, after all, the air trip was worthwhile and we
were able to provide a little pleasure for a Fort Erie friend
who had done many services for us, and still continues to do
so. This episode had its amusing side too, and it seems that if
your mind is so tuned you can often see something funny in
any situation. Since the aircraft had to return to Welland in
any case, we thought Pauline might as well enjoy the trip,
and she was most anxious to accompany us, but she had one
small cause for concern: She had two young daughters and
they were quite worried about the safety of their mother
traveling homewards in the company of two men — the
pilot and co-pilot. Of course Pauline considered it a huge
joke, but it made her feel good to know that her children
were so very concerned for her welfare.
With certain misgivings we approached the Daniels Hotel
. . . and entered, inquiring for the manager, who soon ap-
peared; so we introduced ourselves and soon we were di-
rected to our suite, which proved to be eminently suitable.
Although we did not know it then, the year ahead was to
prove one of the most satisfactory periods we had en-
countered for a long time. Ivan Miller did everything pos-
sible to make us comfortable, and our accommodation was

119
quite adequate for our needs. Ivan took a great liking for our
Cleo and Taddy, and he would greet them with, ‘How are
you Guys.’ They had a great love for Ivan in return.
We seemed to have made a very satisfactory move, and I
was reminded of a remark made some years previously,
when we lived in Windsor, and we had a visitor from Upper
Canada (from the Kingston area) who said, ‘Why don't you
come to live in the Kingston district, or further up the St.
Lawrence river where all is calm and beautiful?’ This person
found Windsor too industrialized, and too low-lying. Well, I
reflected, here we are, and soon we shall find out for our-
selves whether we will like it or not. In the days to come we
explored the area and came to know the surrounding district
very well.
It was during those pleasant Prescott days that we came
to know Mrs. Mary Ann Czermak from San Francisco, when
she had reason to come to our part of the world; and I was
speaking to her a few days ago when she mentioned that not
only might I mention her in my story but that ‘indeed she
would be honored to receive mention’. So, thank you,
Mary Ann! And I'm happy to know you still have pleasant
memories of the Canadian food. Mrs. Czermak wanted to
make something of her life besides just being a housewife, so
the Guv suggested she study photography more deeply since
she was an exceptionally good amateur photographer even
then. Following his advice she now augments the family
income by doing just that; and she specialized in photo-
graphing horses for a time, attending shows and meeting
many interesting people. Since she was able to work in her
own neighborhood, the greater part of the time, she was
able to combine her lucrative hobby with her homemaking
duties, which were not allowed to suffer at all. About seven
months ago Mrs. Czermak acquired a little stray kitten (who
is now a lovely cat), and just this morning I received a de-
lightful picture of Cat Person Suzuki, sitting in a dignified
pose inside a dishwashing bowl, if a pose in such a setting
can be termed ‘dignified’. I had mentioned in a recent letter
that, judging from her handwriting, Mrs. Czermak had

120
‘blossomed’ since the advent of Suzuki; her writing was
more rounded and pleasant. She agreed with my comments,
saying she felt herself to be a different person, and con-
tinued: ‘Nobody has ever shown me such unconditional love
as this little Girl Cat.’ And it seems the whole family agrees
that it's impossible to imagine the household without her. A
nice tribute! Mrs. Czermak has quite a liking for Canada and
its beautiful scenery, having visited this country several
times. She came to New Brunswick while we were there and
later paid us a visit in Montreal. She took a trip by sea from
Saint John, New Brunswick, to Digby, Nova Scotia, on the
ferry, and she was so enthralled that she ran out of film
before the outing ended.
She amused me the other day when she mentioned the
most delightful Bay of Fundy prawns she had enjoyed at the
Moon Palace Restaurant in Saint John, where we had dined
one evening. ‘What a memory’, I told her . . . ‘To remember
after all these years’. ‘Yes’, she said, ‘I can still see in my
mind's eye the lovely reddish color of those prawns.’
It appears to me at this moment that a good title for this
book might be ‘Flowers of Friendship’, for so many pleasant
incidents come to mind which cannot be ignored. I have
mentioned previously that friendships do not come easily,
and neither do they — quality definitely being preferable to
quantity. It just occurred to me the other day that my few
personal friends are owned by Cat People, and that makes
the association all the more precious. Another truth has
dawned upon me, and it is this: You can have a really close
association, leading to a firm and lasting friendship, with
someone you have never met physically. I have such a
friend in Tessamarie — and her Siamese cat, Keeta. In our
more difficult times we have been able to provide en-
couragement and pleasure for each other, through letters
and very infrequent telephone conversations. This is a
person for whom I have much admiration, and the only
problem I encounter is in trying to decipher her minute
handwriting; but this is quickly overcome by using a small
magnifier, and her cheerful comments are well worth the

121
effort. At my bedside I have a little book of Oriental Wisdom
which Tessamarie kindly presented to me, and I enjoy read-
ing the philosophy of Confucius, Lao-Tse and others.

Having mentioned a number of feminine acquaintances

and friends, and lest it be thought one may have an aversion
to masculine companionship, let me hasten to record that
such is not the case . . . my few close associates do include
the opposite sex.
Not everyone who reads this wants to hear about ALL the
people who interest me, or who are interested in me, but I
might mention two or three of the persons I have known for
a few years. The first two have the same name but they are
spelt in different ways — there is John (who I have known the
longest), and Jon (who came into our life a little later). Both
these gentlemen are friends of my Family and we have come
to know each other quite well. John has visited us a number
of times and we have spent many interesting moments in
each other's company. A follower of the Guv s beliefs, and
an avid reader of the Rampa books, he has introduced me to
a few other interesting authors. One of the nicest things
John ever did was to bring along the story of Jonathan
Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach, because otherwise I
might have missed that delightful story.
The other friend, Jon, is another person who finds great
benefit in following the teachings of Lobsang Rampa, and he
has often commented how his life has changed for the better
since he has known the Guv. Jon is interested in photogra-
phy and he has made astonishing progress in a matter of
two years and, since he is owned by two beautiful cats, he is
never short of a photographic subject; and some of his pic-
torial scenes are something to be remembered. Living in
British Columbia gives one many opportunities for making
artistic reproductions of mountain, ocean, and city life. This
friend paid us a visit last month and just before he arrived I
had cut my finger. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I have sliced the end off
my finger.’ He looked (although the sight of blood makes
him feel squeamish), considered for a moment; then, with a

122
whimsical smile commented, ‘My goodness, but don't you
think that is a drastic method of trying to lose weight?’ We
enjoy his sense of humor even though at times it might
seem rather misplaced.
Another gentleman of our acquaintance lives in England
and he visited us here in Canada some years ago, so it was
my pleasant duty to show him around a corner of our
country. The particular Province was that of Quebec and
the city was Montreal, so there was quite a lot to see in that
particular corner; and, being an ardent horticulturist, he was
particularly interested in the Botanical Gardens, where
we took quite a large number of photographs of the trees
and plants and various flowers.
We dined together two or three times in one or another of
Montreal's delightful restaurants, and the topics of con-
versation were interesting and enjoyable to both of us and
are still remembered with pleasure. One has to be prepared
for all sorts of remarks in the course of one's life, and
Mr. Sowter startled me somewhat as I was casually con-
templating my amethyst ring which had been a gift, the
amethyst being a stone which I understood induced calm-
ness and placidity in the wearer, and I believe it had such an
effect. Whether it was said in fun or seriously I did not
know but, after contemplating me for a few moments, Mr.
Sowter suddenly remarked, ‘Mrs. Rampa, I would have
thought you had progressed beyond the wearing of
jewelry.’ I must say that his comment gave me food for
thought, but then I decided there is nothing wrong with
wearing jewelry; if so, it would be strange that so many
church leaders, such as Bishops, wear an amethyst. Well, if
Mr. Sowter should read these pages I am telling him that I no
longer own that ring — not because I did not like it or
believe in it, but for a reason which is not relevant to my
story.
Well Mr. Sowter thoroughly enjoyed his visit to Canada,
and amongst the items he found to take back with him was a
beautiful Rosenthal bust of Nefertiti, something else to
remind him of a pleasant experience, and he says he has

123
placed her in an ideal position at the top of the stairway in
his home, where he is able to greet her in passing.
Mr. Sowter is a dedicated bird lover and I admire him for
the interest he takes in the R.S.P.B. (the Royal Society for the
Protection of Birds). As gifts, he presents to his friends such
items as Bird Calendars, table covers with bird designs, and
the like. The other day I received a delightful handkerchief,
and printed on it was a design of beautiful feathers in
various colors and shades of colors. Truly a gentleman of
excellent taste and sensitivity — for all this is done in the
interest of the Bird Society of Great Britain.

124
 CHAPTER TWENTY

IT was our intention to stay at the Daniels Hotel for a

short period only, simply to give us sufficient time to look
around and find a furnished house or some other dwelling
more permanent and home-like than we could expect from
hotel living. This was easier said than done for property was
not so simple to obtain, either for rent or even to buy — the
latter not of interest to us in any case. There is much activity
in the district, factories such as R.C.A. and the large Dupont
Company; therefore, all the workers had to be housed and
this was a direct cause of overcrowding in that little town.
Strangely enough, Prescott sported only one hotel, although
previously there had been several; all of them gradually dis-
appearing; some probably having become too decrepit for
further occupation while one, at least, had been destroyed
by fire just a few months earlier.
After a week or two of vain searching we approached
Ivan, the hotel manager, with the intention of asking about
a longer stay in the suite we occupied. ‘Your hotel is very
nice’ we informed him, ‘so perhaps we can come to terms
with you regarding a longer tenancy, if you are agreeable.’
Ivan's response was indicative of his whole attitude through-
out our stay and we quickly came to an arrangement. He
was pleased to hear we were finding the place so
satisfactory, and we sighed with relief knowing we might
enjoy the remainder of the summer months without the
dreary grind of home-hunting.
One of the worst experiences we encountered was the
invasion of those little creatures, shad flies. They came all
around the window screens, and in one's hair; even on the
food if one did not take extra care. When these creatures

125
first appeared we wondered whatever was happening; but
the whole cycle was completed in a matter of about two
weeks — to our immense satisfaction. This invasion seems to
prevail in just a few areas, and they seemed to be parti-
cularly attracted to Prescott. It was our first, and only,
encounter with shad flies for which we were truly
thankful.
The weeks passed, and occasionally one or two members
of the Family would go off to Brockville where there was a
greater variety of opportunities for shopping. The drive
along by the river was a delight, and often we wished we
could find a place to live somewhere along that stretch of
ten or twelve miles.
It was in Brockville that we met the veterinarian who
would be caring for Miss Cleo and Miss Taddy, and we came
to know this gentleman quite well for all cats need a check-
up periodically, just as human animals do. By the time those
little people were just a few months old we realized they
were not very strong physically, and when Taddy developed
a limp we were quite concerned. Gradually the time ap-
proached when we had to prepare for the operation which is
required for all little girl cats if they are going to be raised
as ‘pets’ only. That is the spaying operation which is per-
formed so that there will be no likelihood of them producing
baby cats.
We had noticed when we took them out for a drive that
they had some difficulty in maintaining their balance, and
we were somewhat concerned about this also. Dr. Wang,
who had given the whole situation a good deal of thought,
decided to have some X-rays taken prior to the operation. He
was rather puzzled about Taddy's limp, and he pointed out
that there was a danger she might injure herself while strug-
gling under the anesthetic so we would be wiser to find out
the cause first. It was not a simple procedure to place two
cats in position to have their limbs X-rayed, but being nice
helpful girl cats, the pictures were obtained and interpreted
to show there really was cause for concern: It was found
that these two little people had what is known as osteo-

126
porosis — a softening of their bones; and there was evidence
of a number of minor fractures in each case.
It was necessary to provide them with plenty of calcium
tablets, supplemented with Pablum (baby food), which they
enjoyed when mixed with the concentrated juice from a
little cooked lean beef (they will not take fatty juice! If it is
‘fatty’, one has to cool it in the refrigerator and then
remove the solid fat before heating and offering it to the
creatures). If possible, it is better that they should take the
preparation themselves, but in this case I spoon-fed them so
they were sure of getting it, and each would have her share.
We were not in a position to play about — it was too serious;
and a few months later we had the satisfaction of seeing
Cleo and Taddy becoming more healthy, Taddy having lost
her limp, and even though it was well past the usual time for
spaying, at last they had the operation . . . and soon they
were home again.
I have to comment here that life in hotels is not the ideal
situation for two Siamese queens during their ‘calling’
periods. However, Dr. Wang kindly supplied some little
pills, to be used during those times, and this made life more
tolerable for the Family, the other guests, and especially for
the little people themselves.
We have kept in touch with this particular veterinarian
during the ensuing years, and we just heard from him last
week. I have been asked whether he is of Chinese nation-
ality, and though I would not mind whether he were
Chinese or any other nationality, I have to say he is of
Norwegian descent, and I will always have a feeling of
gratitude towards him for detecting the deficiency with
which our Cat People were beset and which delayed for a
time their natural growth.
During that summer after our arrival in Prescott, the Guv
was able to write one of his books. He must have felt the
atmosphere to be conducive to writing in order to achieve
this in the rather limited space, especially since it was such
an excellent piece of work — probably my favorite Lobsang
Rampa volume, apart from ‘Living with the Lama’ and

127
‘You, Forever’, which of course is a ‘study’ book. Yes, I
found quite a lot of humor in ‘Chapters of Life’ and,
indeed, the dedication was in favor of Miss Cleopatra
Rampa and Miss Tadalinka Rampa, who, if the Guv had not
been more alert than they, might have chewed up the pages
as soon as they were completed. In those days, due to their
deficiency, they would chew anything they could get their
claws on (twine, rubber bands, etc.), and it meant a constant
vigil to keep all these things out of their way. I was warned
that rubber bands could easily cause an obstruction of the
bowel, while Taddy seemed to root them out from nowhere.
However, it was all well worth the effort of caring for them.
for now I have two beautiful cat companions who are loyal,
loving, and definitely a credit to the Family.
Mentioning Dr. Peter Wang, the Norwegian, brings to my
mind a book about Norway, written by a popular author of
my young days. The book described Norway beautifully —
the fjords, the beautiful scenery; and the author was Marie
Corelli. O, yes, the title of the work was ‘Thelma’, a name
which I like very much, and I am reminded of it each time I
meet Miss Thelma Dumont who has done so much in the
way of helping me with this book, such as typing, pointing
out errors for correction, and showing a real interest in the
project. While copying from my rough typescript, she has
made a point of commenting upon any parts which she
found of special interest; and, judging from her remarks, I
know she has been reading it in detail. One day, in the early
pages, Thelma suddenly asked: ‘Are Ku'ei and Fifi still with
you?’ And when I had to answer, ‘No, I'm afraid not,’ she
looked quite sad. ‘I rather wish you hadn't told me,’ she
said. She is a very sensitive and capable person and without
her help and real interest it is doubtful my story would have
reached even this stage. Her sadness disappeared when I was
able to tell her, in answer to her query whether the Guv
was still around, that, ‘Yes, he is,’ and she exclaimed
genuinely, ‘I'm so glad.’
So the days and weeks rolled by and soon everyone was
preparing for Expo '67, the big Centennial celebration

128
which was to be held in Montreal. Gradually it came to our
notice that various persons were planning to visit Expo '67
and at the same time intended to ‘stop off’ at Prescott to
pay their respects to Lobsang Rampa. It seemed a wonderful
idea except that we did not welcome visitors at any time
unless they were invited, which was a rare occurrence. Since
Montreal was a mere two hours drive away from us we
became more than a little concerned, for we knew it would
be no problem for anyone to find us since Prescott was not a
big place.
Ivan was very busy, in anticipation of welcoming Cen-
tennial visitors, and the girls in his coffee shop were being
fitted out with their last-century dresses, while Ivan himself
started to grow a beard. The scene was changing and we
were in rather a quandary once more. It seemed that, for ‘the
duration’, we really would have to find some place to stay
which was a little less prominent; but — where? Soon it
would be one year since we had arrived at the Daniels, and
since it was impossible to secure anything more private we
began to look further afield.
One day I happened to mention that New Brunswick
seemed to be a nice area, perhaps it was worth considering.
‘I have heard that the scenery is rather like the Irish
countryside,’ I commented. So the idea gradually formed in
our minds and before very long we were making inquiries
and preparations for the trek from Ontario, across the Prov-
ince of Quebec, into New Brunswick. We had decided
upon the city of Saint John as being most suitable because
it was situated by the ocean, which we decided would be
a nice change after the St. Lawrence river area of Upper
Canada.
Ivan seemed sad that we were leaving and he smiled when
we suggested he would need our suite to accommodate all
the important visitors who would be arriving during the
summer.
At last the Day arrived, a lovely May day, when we de-
parted in a fairly roomy; if not too modern, aircraft; and the
journey took somewhere around three hours. It was late

129
afternoon when we reached Saint John, Atlantic time being
one hour ahead of Prescott's ‘Eastern daylight’.
It was a lovely time of the year to be living in New Bruns-
wick and we found the people quite friendly though a
little aloof until one had lived there long enough to ‘prove’
one's self. The apartment which we rented overlooked the
Harbor, and from the uppermost floor (which was the thir-
teenth) we could watch ships entering and leaving the Port
of Saint John. The superintendent of the building was very
interested in his job and he looked after the tenants ex-
tremely well. He was especially helpful towards the older
people, and his patience seemed inexhaustible.
This was another quiet time in our lives and we made the
most of it, enjoying a drive around the district occasionally;
and the Cat Persons were very satisfied to go on these
leisurely trips.
As winter approached we liked the milder temperature
since Prescott could be extremely cold, with more than a
fair share of snow. Of course snow soon melts in coastal
towns and cities, but it seems that Saint John has suffered
some quite dreadful snowstorms during the past winter. Cer-
tainly the fates were kind to us that winter; but, in passing. I
might add that anyone who plans to pay a visit to that part
of the Maritimes might be well-advised to include an um-
brella in their luggage.

130
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IT is election day here in Alberta, and the first week of

Spring — by the calendar anyway. In reality we have snow
and cold winds from the north sweeping along at twenty
miles per hour; and when I awoke this morning the tempera-
ture was six degrees (F.) above zero, and the weather man
kindly informed us that equaled 1° C. Last month it was
much warmer and everybody was preparing to cast off their
winter clothing, but now it is back to big winter boots and
scarves to keep us warm from head to toe. Still we expect
the warm Chinook air will be along soon so that we can all
smile again. Someone may say, ‘But what is all this to do
with your story?’; and I have to answer, ‘Well, it IS my
story — moving around the country with my Family , feeling
the atmosphere of the various provinces, and comparing
them.’
As I start to write this, the last part of my book, my mind
wanders back to the Maritimes, to Saint John in particular.
Although the Guv was even then using a wheel chair for
moving around, he was still not too incapacitated. We en-
joyed idling around the road outside the apartment building,
the Guv with his wheel chair, accompanied either by Butter-
cup or me; and soon the local residents came to know us,
often stopping for a chat. One day when Buttercup was
accompanying the Guv she was approached by a small girl
who had been hanging around and viewing them with
interest. At last, having summoned sufficient courage, she
went right up and addressed Buttercup. ‘Do you take him
out every day, Miss?’, she said. Then she dashed off, without
waiting for an answer, her courage suddenly deserting her,
leaving the Guv and Buttercup highly amused.

131
 This episode reminds me of something which happened
just a few days ago when a young man came here on an
errand. Being the son of one of our friends he had heard
about Dr. Rampa and he was most eager to see the Guv,
having combed his hair specially we were told. The Guv was
not at all well that evening but he could not bear to disap-
point a young man who had made a point of tidying himself
up for the occasion. It was a pleasurable event lasting all of
fifteen minutes, and Andrew was off home again. Later when
we talked to our friend, Andrew's father, to inquire whether
the young man had found the visit worthwhile, we were
told, ‘He said he was sorry for the old fellow as he has no
legs below the knees’. For a moment we were nonplussed
and then we realized the Guv had been sitting in the lotus
position, which he finds most comfortable, and over the
sheets it looked exactly like an amputation. Another cause
for amusement, all of which helps to keep us cheerful.
Yes, it was a happy time in Saint John; and the Guv wrote
another book, the idea for the cover being taken from a
photograph of that time, where he was holding a prayer-
wheel and a begging bowl. For those who may be interested,
the title of the book was ‘Beyond the Tenth’.
Our home was not very far from the Bay of Fundy and
the Reversing Falls, so named because at a certain point
under the bridge a stretch of water on the Saint John river
collides with water from the Falls, causing a reversal of the
tide; and this is a very popular tourist attraction. The tides
are higher than anywhere else in the world, running into the
inlet between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick and rising up
to 60 feet.
Some people say that distance and the passing of time
lend a sort of enchantment, and that things were never so
good at the time they happened as they are in retrospect; but
of our stay in the Maritimes, I can only say that we enjoyed
and appreciated it at the time.
Water is possessed of a magnetic quality and the sea has
an added mysticism. Many are the tales told by some of the
Atlantic fishermen and older residents of strange happenings

132
at sea and in the remote districts, tales the validity of which
we could well appreciate.
The New Brunswickers are a proud group of loyalists
and their province provides much of Canada's history. There
is a small island a short distance from the harbor which is
the burial place of many Irishmen who came to Canada in
the days of the great potato famine, but who developed a
plague and never reached the mainland of the New World.
They had not been allowed to leave their ship, by the
authorities, for fear they should spread the disease which
had been caused by starvation and overcrowding. Therefore,
as they died they found their last resting place on that little
piece of land.
Off the mainland there is another place of interest, Grand
Manan island, where President Roosevelt kept a summer
home and where he spent many vacations, away from the
problems of his high office.
After a stay of about a year and a half, it was necessary
to make another break in our life-pattern and so we went to
Montreal; but the following year we were drawn back to
New Brunswick for what proved to be a rather short and
somewhat distressing period.
On our second visit we stayed in the Admiral Beatty Hotel
for a few weeks while we waited for our apartment which
was not yet ready. The hotel manager was most helpful and
treated us extremely well, as did his dining room supervisor
who also acted in the capacity of hostess and who was
always most solicitous for our welfare.
Everybody was helpful in Saint John, especially the two
men who operated a fish truck, and who transported the
Guv (together with his wheel chair) when he had to move
from the railway station to the hotel and later from the
hotel to the apartment. These men manipulated that hoist in
a most professional manner — and they were obviously de-
lighted to be of service.
While we stayed at the Admiral Beatty, Prince Philip,
Duke of Edinburgh, happened to visit the city, and when he
passed through the foyer we had the pleasure of seeing His

133
Royal Highness. Everyone seemed excited when they heard
him coming down the stairway (the elevators, it seemed,
were not swift enough for him), and as he strode past the
crowd they waved enthusiastically and applauded him. We
seem to have had more glimpses of the Royal Family in
Canada than we ever did in England for the Queen Mother
visited Saint John on our earlier stay, and since the Royal
Yacht ‘Britannia’ had docked in the harbor we were able
to look out and see Her Majesty as she made frequent trips
to and from her temporary home. And of course we had the
opportunity of seeing Queen Elizabeth the Second herself a
few years earlier.
When we lived in Montevideo, President Goulart of Brazil
came on a visit — and there was a reception right below our
apartment building, so we were able to stand out on the
balcony and watch the proceedings, at the same time getting
some photographs of the occasion, and it was most interest-
ing and quite exciting.
Another interesting and rather exciting incident occurred
around that period when the then ex-President Peron tried to
stage a come-back from his exile in Spain. The plane carrying
Juan Peron and his party passed right over our building on
its way to Brazil where negotiations took place regarding
entry into Argentina. Unfortunately for him, the ex-Presi-
dent was not allowed to return to his country; but he per-
severed and eventually regained his position as President,
though only briefly. Thus it is with rulers, heads of State;
often their positions are so uncertain that today's prince can
very easily become the beggar of tomorrow. Yes, a bor-
rowed phrase!
I hope that little backward look into yesterday is not con-
sidered too much of a digression; and now we return to the
pleasant life of Saint John, which was all too short-lived.
Miss Cleo and Miss Taddy liked the hotel because there
was so much action; different people to see and many things
of interest happening. Two or three times each week we
used to sit in the hotel lobby, just so that these little people
could have their recreation; and sometimes a guest would

134
come up to see them and chat with us for a while. Every.
body admired our Cat People and I enjoyed having an
excuse to chat, especially if the person had something of
interest to impart. Once we met two nice young girls from
Quebec city, and they extolled the wonders of their city
with much gusto; and I wished I could have seen this place
for myself because many people have expressed delight over
its beauty. Another time a young man came over to us,
remarking that he was a representative for a company of Pet
supplies, actually Hartz Mountain (whose cat litter we had
always used), and he expressed interest in the traveling
basket we were using.
I mentioned a company which I had known in England, a
supplier of medicine for pets — various cat powders and the
like. It was a well known company, and the young man was
interested to hear that my Silver Tabby's photograph had
looked out on the world from various drugstores and food
shops throughout the country after the company had ob-
tained the original picture from us, during the years of the
Second World War. It had seemed strange (after T. Catt had
gone to his heavenly home) to walk into a store and see his
likeness still gazing placidly around and often I felt sad at
the thought that he was no longer with us in the flesh.
Apart from visitors, many local people came into the
hotel, some passing through the lobby and into the jewelry
store of Henry Birks, the store and the people being a source
of constant interest. This time was not wasted because it
prevented Cleo and Taddy from getting too nervous as they
had been for a while in Prescott before we started to take
them downstairs to the lobby at the Daniels Hotel.
Eventually the apartment was ready for us, in the same
building where we had lived previously, there being very
few high-rise buildings in the district — especially with a view
of the sea, although in the intervening years I believe this has
been remedied somewhat and there is more choice of accom-
modation. Apartment living was something new to the
people and they did not take well to the idea; but later the
whole complex was occupied and soon there was a waiting

135
list. It was an eminently suitable life-style for anyone wait-
ing to purchase a house, or being temporarily transferred in
their job, and one came across a number of newly married
people full of the excitement of starting a home, discussing
the price of wall-to-wall carpeting, etc., while waiting for
the mailman in the lobby (which was a general meeting
place each morning.)
It never seems to pay to become too complacent for im-
mediately we sit back, relax, and think we will ‘take it
easy’ we are jerked back to alertness and action. Barely
two months after getting settled into the new home, sadness
entered our lives once again: The Guv suddenly suffered
acute pain and he was so sick that we had to get medical
help. This led to a stay in a Saint John Hospital and we all
felt very sad at being parted from each other. Miss Cleo and
Miss Taddy were very unhappy, even though they could
communicate quite easily; but it was not the same as having
the Guv at home where they could be close beside him.
It just happened that, during the stay in hospital, there
was a ‘flu epidemic’ in the district; so — no visitors. Really,
the Guv must have felt very isolated, as did we all, and we
were happy when the day came that he was able to return
home. Cleo and Taddy were quite excited, yet rather shy,
not having seen the Guv for the best part of a week. It was
during this stay in hospital that the Guv was told he could
expect to live for only a few months and he should keep a
suitcase packed in anticipation of an early return to the
hospital. ‘You'll be back,’ he was told in a matter of fact
tone by one of the doctors. Unfortunately that was the un-
happiest experience — the apparent lack of feeling towards a
patient, and we can only tell ourselves that perhaps the
doctor was sick himself or perhaps he had forgotten the
hypocritical oath of his profession.
It was another milestone in our lives — a turning point;
and one only hoped the medical profession might be proved
wrong. At the same time we felt we must not blind ourselves
to the fact that nothing is certain and we should be pre-
pared, in case those professional men should be proved cor-

136
rect in their prognosis. On the other hand, any one of us can
be mistaken, whether we be medical or lay persons, and I,
have here before me a quotation by Maimonides, Greek phil-
osopher, which seems very appropriate so I will pass it on:
‘May there never develop in me the notion that my edu-
cation is complete but give me the strength and leisure and
zeal continually to enlarge my knowledge.’
A concept worth following, and I found these words on
the cover of some medical educational material.
In this case the medicos were proved wrong, but never-
theless it was a time of great concern, and I suppose we
were worried underneath — if not consciously.
In the following few months the family was drawn closer
together as we sat and chatted, or just sat, thinking each our
own thoughts. On several evenings each week we used to
view cine films which we had rented from the National Film
Library, and some of them were quite educational, others
amusing. Watching Buster Keaton making a train journey
across Canada was quite hilarious and we all enjoyed the
cartoons. The curator of the Museum, who had been our
neighbor, kindly lent us some more films and these were
greatly appreciated. We saw beautiful scenes, many from
Europe, and especially good was one taken in Germany
where the scenery and buildings held us enthralled. Then
there was a short silhouette type film which we refer to even
now because it gave us so much pleasure, its title being, ‘The
Grasshopper and The Ant’; Mr. Grasshopper being a de-
lightful character who loved and lived Today — never caring
for Tomorrow and its problems. Miss Ant was a severe lady
who chastised Mr. Grasshopper for not preparing for
Winter, but he still did not bother; while in the end Miss Ant
mellowed, and the film ended with everyone happy and
friendly; and it was one of the nicest little nature pictures I
ever saw, written and produced by a German lady.
It was a hard, uphill fight for the Guv and to us, the on-
lookers. Nothing short of a miracle how he kept going with
all the pain he suffered; but even so, he sat down and wrote
another book — telling of his most recent experiences. As I

137
look back I have come to realize that he himself could not
have been sure how long he would be able to continue
living.
The most unpleasant aspect was the lack of cooper-
ation from the treatment point of view, and I was puzzled as
to why no one had talked to me regarding the illness. Even
when I went to deliver a few personal things to the Guv
during his stay there in the hospital I was greeted in a quite
uncivil manner. I had not wanted to visit the ward knowing
visitors were not allowed at that time, but the attitude
seemed to be that I was trying to ‘gate crash’ my way in.
So, it was due to the lack of medical interest and care that
we would leave New Brunswick for the second time. The
Guv has himself written about all this so there is no need for
me to enlarge upon it.
We were going to miss the calm, placid life of the Mari-
times; and of course we would miss that delicacy which is
peculiar to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, the fiddlehead.

138
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

So it was back to Montreal, and Habitat, for the second

time; but the circumstances would be in many ways a great
deal more satisfactory than on our first visit, for we were, in
a way, returning to friends. The administrator of Habitat
had kept in touch with us and he was to have everything
ready for our comfort while we would be located tem-
porarily in one of the guest apartments.
On the morning of our departure, Saint John was
shrouded in fog, so we ran into our first problem — no planes
leaving the airport. When we received a telephone call at
breakfast time to tell us we would have to travel to Frederic-
ton by road, we did not feel too happy. Still there was
nothing we could do about it, but we were concerned as to
how the Guv would manage the journey which was being
made longer because of the weather.
Eventually we started out, and we had to have two cars
for our family of three adults, two Cat Persons, and our
luggage. Miss Cleo and Miss Taddy went with me in the first
car because the Guv preferred to travel behind so he could
more easily keep his mind, and his eyes, on us; and period-
ically I would look around to wave, showing him we were
doing all right. We had said our goodbyes to the super-
intendent who told us he was very sorry to lose such nice
tenants and good friends, and he said he would keep in
touch with us while perhaps one day we might return. I
wondered how the Cat People would behave on what, for
them, was a fairly lengthy car ride; but any worries I might
have had proved groundless for they were extremely quiet
and ladylike during the sixty mile drive. I had a suspicion
that the Guv must have had a word with them, and of course

139
they knew he was keeping an eagle eye in their direction.
As we drove along my thoughts wandered, as usual, and I
have always found that the soothing purr of the engine is
most conducive to day-dreaming — providing one is not driv-
ing I suppose. Many people seem to experience a certain
amount of disassociation while at the wheel of a car, though
enjoying the relaxation, and often finding the solution to
a problem.
As I thought of our situation and the Guv's deterioration
in health, I realized the fact that the years were passing and
we were getting older, and not one of us expects to live for-
ever. I thought of how (especially in the North American
continent) everyone wants to remain young, going to all
lengths in clothes and beauty aids to maintain the illusion.
No one would disagree that it is nice to remain young, and
not many of us look forward with joy to advancing years;
and most of us pass through a phase of mild ‘panic’ at the
idea of becoming old, or even elderly.
Having passed through most of Shakespeare's seven
stages, I feel it is in order to make a few comments — the
most important being that getting old is a most interesting
experience, and a time when most things cease to be a cause
for worry. You have more time to enjoy what is around
you for you cannot easily go rushing around, especially if
you are ‘out of breath’ with little or no physical effort.
At various times in my life I have been reminded about
‘age’ and its importance. For many months after I was born I
was always ‘Baby’, and perhaps I earned the title for I was
just beginning to walk at eighteen months. At seven years I
knew and envied a girl of eleven, believing her to be quite
adult; and, along with my friends of that period, decided
that were we not married by the age of twenty-one we
might as well give up! By the time the magic twenty-one
was reached it was neither the time for getting married or
for giving up; and anyhow, in my mind seventeen had been
the age of magic. Just about that time I had the misfortune
to be hospitalized, and doctors seemed to be buzzing all
around. ‘Your name?’ they inquired; and when I told them

140
they looked glum and uninterested. ‘Your age?’ came next.
‘Ah, that is more interesting’ they answered when I told
them ‘Twenty-one’.
It must have been about twenty years later that someone
drew attention to my age again. I was in conversation when
the other person suddenly remarked: ‘You must have been
quite attractive when you were younger.’ Not a very well-
mannered person, I concluded. When, a few years later, I
was making a transatlantic crossing by plane, in the
company of a young girl, one of the passengers inquired
whether she was my granddaughter. Now, I felt, I was really
arriving — but I was to have yet another reminder: A year or
two ago, I was in a bank one day buying a money order
when I was asked: ‘Are you a senior citizen?’ In answer to
my surprised expression and inquiry, ‘Why?’, I received
the answer, ‘Senior citizens do not have to pay any charges
for money orders: Ah well, a few more years, I suppose,
and someone will come along to help me across the street or
something, with the comment, ‘I expect you have been
around for a long time, Lady!’ And then I will know I have
really ARRlVED.
So we reached Fredericton and eventually Montreal air-
port after a tiring flight, and the Guv absolutely exhausted,
with fewer facilities for the deplaning of disabled persons
than had existed at Fredericton. Another drive, a few miles
along the Expressway, and we turned in towards Habitat
where I noticed a few signs which had been absent when we
left. Many people used to get lost trying to find their way
around, but now it seemed the situation had been remedied.
After winding our way around the grounds at last we
reached the entrance where we were welcomed by the
senior commissionaire who we had known before, and who
had been there since the days of Expo '67. On reaching the
guest apartment we found Mr. Gobeille was waiting for us,
in a fierce June heatwave, and no air conditioning since the
electricians were in the midst of one of their frequent
strikes. Mr. Gobeille appeared very pleased at our return and
we enjoyed a few minutes chat together.

141
 Cité du Havre, the site of Habitat, is almost an island and
quite an interesting place to live, especially for those who
like water and being near ships. We used to gaze out of the
window and see craft from all over the world, so near that
one could reach out and almost touch them. In summer it
was pleasant as the temperature was ten degrees lower than
the city of Montreal, but by the same token the ten degrees
made quite a difference in the winter months when one
almost got one's nose frozen off if one ventured outside.
There was very little choice of apartments so we had to
settle for one which had a delightful view over the harbor
but which had its entrance below ground level, which meant
descending about fifteen stairs. Most of the apartments, or
suites, were situated on two floors, and the bedrooms were
either upstairs or, just as frequently, downstairs. Definitely a
new way of living, but apparently quite popular for soon
there was a waiting list. And the type of tenant was very
mixed, consisting of doctors, musicians, writers and artists;
also teachers; and various nationalities, all of whom seemed
to get along well together. Since the Cité du Havre was with-
out public transport we had our own private bus operating
as far as the city, taking tenants to within a short distance of
their places of work and delivering their children to school.
without this service Habitat would not have been so popu-
lar because it was in a way quite isolated; no postal facilities
for instance, and only one small food store where it was
possible to obtain staple foods such as milk, bread, eggs and
a few fruits and vegetables, with the usual canned foods and
dry goods.
The man who operated the store was a unique character
and many were the stories he told about the activities at
Habitat in the days of Expo ‘67. Unfortunately his lease
expired and he left for another position so he was greatly
missed by the tenants. It was a marvel to us how Mr. P.
always had fresh bread on hand, even when there could not
possibly have been a baker's delivery. We later realized that
Mr. P's version of fresh bread was bread which had been
refrigerated. Still it is colorful personalities such as he

142
which give an added zest to life, and it was an acknowl-
edged fact that Mr. P. always seemed to achieve what
anyone else would have deemed impossible.
I took a number of photographs around that time because
it was possible to get some delightful pictures of the ships
and the water from the walk-way on the tenth floor. And
again we rented films from the Film Library; but it was not so
interesting as the first time in Saint John — perhaps we had
seen all the best ones, or we were getting too used to them.
There was one incident which amused us when our friend
Jon came to visit us, and he joined us in viewing a medical
film which was somewhat gory. If you remember, Jon
cannot stand the sight of a bleeding finger, or anything like
that, and this film happened to be taken in the operating
theatre while an operation was in progress. Jon began to
look pale and the Guv suggested he should have a stimulant
before he passed out, having already left the room once. I
took the phial and, wrapping it in a tissue, broke it and
pushed it towards his face with the admonition, ‘Here, sniff
this.’ So he took one breath and nearly fell over, gasping,
‘Are you trying to finish me off?’
I must agree that sometimes the sight of blood makes me
feel a little queasy myself, and I was a bit worried one Satur-
day when I was preparing lunch — I cut my finger and we
couldn't stop the flow. The Guv fixed it temporarily and
suggested I take myself off to the hospital; so I went quickly,
via the Habitat limousine which just happened to be avail-
able. Buttercup accompanied me to the emergency depart-
ment where we waited a few minutes; and then, after all
details had been supplied, my finger received attention. I
was given a bowl of warm water and told to ‘stick it in
there and clean it up’. Cleo and Taddy were very concerned,
and when we returned home they looked a bit surprised to
see us so soon while the Guv had done his best to reassure
them, in spite of Taddy's telepathic inquiry, ‘Do you think
we will ever see Ma again.’
These two little people seemed to like Habitat, partly be-
cause there was plenty of room to play and have fun —

143
running up and down stairs and hiding in various corners.
We used to drive over the bridge to St. Lambert where our
French Canadian veterinarian had his office, and he treated
Cleo and Taddy very well. He is a most conscientious
person, and it was through Dr. Wang that we found him.
We were introduced to another Canadian way of life, that
of the ‘Drive-In’ Restaurant. A friend suggested it was time
the Cat People furthered their education, so we went once
more to the St. Lambert district and enjoyed a hamburger
and coffee while Cleo and Taddy were fascinated with the
other patrons who were parked quite near us.
St. Lambert revives a sad memory too, in that the Quebec
cabinet minister Pierre La Porte was held captive in a house
not far away — and it was a distressing time while the F.L.Q.
members were so active. Everyone in Quebec and all of
Canada, and indeed the whole world, was shocked when they
learned of M. La Porte's fate. And we had the unhappy ex-
perience of witnessing the cavalcade of F.L.Q. members,
their car loaded with dynamite and accompanied by police
as they passed by our window on the way to Expo grounds
to hand over another captive — the British Trade Minister,
Mr. Jasper Cross. Those were frightening days when many
people dared not leave their homes in the evenings for fear
they might be kidnapped; and Montreal's night life suffered
greatly.
During the summer and fall we spent a lot of time sitting
on the bank of the Habitat grounds watching the ships of
various countries arriving and departing; and we could hear
music across the water from ‘Man and His World’, the
annual fair which followed Expo. And we would walk
among the plants and flowers in the more cultivated areas,
the Guv using his wheel chair, stopping to point out some-
thing of particular interest.
One day, when I was feeling less than cheerful and some-
what sorry for myself, we went out and he showed me a
little red flower, suggesting I might study it — meditate upon
it, instead of dwelling upon my own problems. At the same
time he suggested I might take to heart the following words:

144
‘Let me think of others that I may forget myself.’ Just a few
words with a big meaning! So I made up a ‘card’ and tried
to live up to its message.
From the medical aspect it was more reassuring because
the doctor we had was very much of a humanitarian and he
never minded making a visit at any time during the day or
night. His wife, Joan, who I mention by name because she
suggested I should, had written to us previously, having
enjoyed the Lobsang Rampa books, and this was the start of
an association which has lasted up to the present time.
Our nearest neighbor was a member of the medical pro-
fession and we enjoyed chatting with him on the all too rare
occasions that we found time to meet. After we had left
Habitat, his wife (another Joan) adopted our friends, the
sparrows, who had come to our patio every morning for
their breakfast. One day, when we were talking together by
telephone she told me that when she made out the weekly
shopping list she included ‘bread for humans’, ‘bread for
birds’. Winters in Montreal can be severe indeed and, but for
a little thought on the part of humans, these creatures would
stand little chance of survival during the long spells of frost
and snow.
Yes, the time came when we would once more be moving
further afield — and when we approached Mr. Gobeille to tell
him of our plans, he would have been happy if he could
have induced us to change our minds.
Some people imagine that after a person has written a
book the author is owned by the public and he should be
available at any time of the day or night. If they would only
stop to think, writers need more peace and quiet than the so-
called ‘average’ person because a good part of their time is
spent in another dimension; they have to think and plan
before they can write.
I am inclined to agree with the American writer, Scott
Fitzgerald, who has been quoted as saying that ‘Authors are
many different people if they are any good at all at their
craft.’ This being so or not, peace and privacy are essential
for an author to continue with his work. The Guv had

145
completed two more volumes in spite of the many diversions
and interruptions from would be well-wishers and curiosity
seekers; but there was no other alternative to looking
around for a more peaceful abode.

146
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When we had finally decided we would leave Montreal,

and Habitat, I proposed that we might consider Alberta, the
province of the Wild Rose; Calgary for choice. But it seemed
the Dogwood of British Columbia beckoned more strongly.
It was my first visit to Vancouver and I must say that
there is no exaggeration in the reports one is given as to its
beauty; and the awesome grandeur of the Rockies is a sight
all should see. We arrived on a hot July day, near the peak
of the tourist season, and it seemed like another world com-
pared to the Canada we had left behind. Where else could
one find a modern cosmopolitan city, with the sea so close at
hand, and yet in a few minutes find one's self in the midst of
a setting such as can be found in an English countryside —
the noted Stanley Park for instance.
It was in Vancouver that we accumulated a fair number
of flowers and plants, providing an interest which I have
maintained right up to the present. The Japanese bonsai tree
is available in British Columbia and we had the good for-
tune to find one or two beautiful specimens of an advanced
age — which made them even more desirable.
Then there was the terrarium where we had a glass con-
tainer full of tiny plants and covered with a glass top
which, if kept covered, is never (or very rarely) in need of
water since by condensation it maintains its own level of
humidity. Some people prefer colored glass for the con-
tainer, but it is better for the plants if one uses a plain clear
glass which allows the maximum amount of light to reach
them since, without sufficient light, no plant will survive. I
was interested to learn that it was a London surgeon, a stu-
dent of natural history, who realized the possibilities of a

147
terrarium and was able to send various grasses and ferns as
far away as Sydney, Australia — a journey of eight months in
those days, where they arrived in perfect condition. Suc-
cessfully, this man was able to grow over one hundred speci-
mens of fern and different grasses by the terrarium method,
things considered impossible to grow in the polluted, sooty
air of nineteenth-century London. So, almost one hundred
and fifty years later, we can still give thanks to Dr. Nath-
aniel Ward for his wonderful discovery which brings so
much joy into our present-day homes.
It is fortunate that the weather is mainly warm in Van-
couver for a large percentage of the population consists of
elderly, even old, people, many of whom are pensioners and
who have a very limited income; so they do not need ex-
pensive winter clothing or need to spend too much on heat-
ing their homes. One day, while I was in a bakery shop, an
elderly lady came in and asked the price of a cake; but ap-
parently it was too expensive so she left, and it made me feel
sad. The assistant commented, ‘I see you were sorry for
her — but you get used to it ‘ I was given to understand that
it was never wise to buy anything for one of these people,
however sorry you might feel. ‘They are very proud, you
know,’ the assistant went on, ‘and they are extremely inde-
pendent.’
Twice I had an opportunity to take a trip to Vancouver
Island, and I found the capital, Victoria, most interesting
and quite British. To my regret there was no time to visit the
famous Butchart's Gardens. The climate of course is much
drier than the mainland and we had hopes of transferring
ourselves over there. However, as I mentioned before, no
one seemed interested in having Cat People, otherwise there
would have been no problem; so, on each of my trips I went
home disappointed.
One feels that the Rockies separate B.C. from the rest of
Canada, in more ways than just physically, for the residents
do not readily accept strangers. One gains much information
about a place by listening to and observing taxi drivers —
and Vancouver was no exception. We understood from

148
them that to be a native of British Columbia was the ul-
timate achievement; and we learned much more. It was not
possible to make a ‘time call’; that is, arrange for a cab for a
certain hour. I was quite concerned when I spent a day there
last year and I tried to book a taxi to take me back to the
airport. ‘No Ma'am,’ I was told, ‘we cannot book anything
in advance.’ Nowhere else have I experienced this kind of
attitude, so I was thankful to get back to Calgary where one
can not only make previous arrangements but it is possible
to ask for a certain driver. This is particularly helpful when
a disabled person, such as the Guv, needs to make a journey.
And here the drivers do not change shifts in the middle of
the afternoon, causing one to start out with one person and
more than likely find it's three thirty and changeover time
halfway through the outing. This happened to us several
times; and I remember one day in particular when, just after
lunch, I went with the Guv to West Vancouver where we
had to do some shopping. It was a beautiful day so we drove
along Ambleside Drive, enjoying the sea air; and when the
time came to return it was the start of the rush hour. As
everybody who lives in that area knows, you should never
be in a hurry if you are crossing the Lion's Gate Bridge.
Well, there we were, stuck about halfway across in a real
traffic jam, when over the radio came the voice of the dis-
patcher with a message for our driver: ‘Come on, you'd
better get going and check in — your night driver is waiting.’
The man was not in a very good mood so his reply was
anything but pleasant. And there was nothing we could do
except to exercise patience. Another time we actually did
have the drivers change over their shifts — right in the center
of Vancouver.
Our apartment was situated on a corner and the windows
were large so there was plenty to see from each angle, es-
pecially in the direction of English Bay where sea-going
vessels awaited their turn before entering the harbor. There
was one day in particular that we spent a very enjoyable
time watching kites being flown in the bay. These were man-
lifting kites, and we enjoyed the display so much that it was

149
impossible to get anything done in our household. One's
mind went back to ‘The Third Eye’ and the description of
these displays about which the Guv wrote.
Another window provided a view of the North, and some-
times as I gazed down towards the Bayshore Inn I used to
wonder how that well-known figure, Howard Hughes, was
spending his time, where he occupied the top floor of the
Bayshore. He had arrived in Vancouver just before we did;
something of a mystery figure who reportedly only left
his quarters except when traveling, although no doubt the
art of disguise was quite familiar to him. I sometimes felt
that we had something in common with Mr. Hughes in that
a good deal of trouble had come our way, not of our own
making.
Eventually, due to several reasons, it was necessary to cast
around again for a peaceful place to settle down; and that
was how we came to reconsider Calgary. Since no one in our
Family had paid a visit to the up and coming city, it was
decided someone should go; and this time it was my turn. It
was around this time of the year, or a little earlier (March),
when snow was still well in evidence; but I enjoyed the trip
and was fortunate in meeting a person in the rental business,
particularly apartments. Actually the person I met was the
wife, and she freely offered helpful information, at the same
time showing me an apartment in the building where she
and her husband lived. This was one of the times when,
apparently by chance, I just happened to meet the right
people at the right time. And I found the experience quite
agreeable after the negative attitude I had been experiencing
with the Vancouver landlords.
Downtown Calgary may not be a place of beauty but
when one looks out on the gray concrete buildings one can
change the focus of one's eyes, looking further afield to the
clear skies, and in the distance the foothills and the Rockies.
To make up for the lack of beautiful scenery the people
are extremely friendly and helpful. And if one is prepared to
drive about eighty miles along the expressway, there is

150
nothing more beautiful than Banff (in the foothills and the
lovely Lake Louise.
It was a few months before everything was finally
arranged, while in the interval we basked in the sun of
British Columbia; and a short time before we were due to
leave the Guv had quite a bad period, due to a fall, which
left us wondering however we would manage even a short
journey, let alone the long trek to Alberta.
It was most upsetting for all of us — the Guv not being able
to move because of pain in his back; and I felt quite helpless.
The doctor came to visit; he was a nice man but there
seemed nothing he could do either except to give a sedative
with the hope that it would ease the pain (to be left lying on
the bedroom floor for two or three days is not a happy
experience because floors can be very hard over the carpet-
covered concrete). One begins to think that if the physician
is ‘stumped’ about what to do there is not much hope for
the patient, and this was our position. One day he came in,
chatted for a while, and then asked, ‘Have you ever had this
before?’ When the Guv said he had, the doctor answered,
‘Well, you've got it again!’
Vancouver seems to be a real refuge for the elderly and
one can only conclude the attraction must be the more
temperate climate, the less severe winters than is experi-
enced by the remainder of the country. In the West End area
it was most noticeable; you would see senior citizens on the
bus and walking along the streets to the numerous stores, or
wandering the short distance to enjoy the peace and beauty
of Stanley Park. The number of wheel chairs around was
greater than I had seen anywhere, apart from the Star and
Garter Home for the war disabled — near Richmond Park, in
Surrey, England.
The mall in Denman Street, at the corner of Comox, was
very convenient for wheel chair passengers in that they
were able to meet their friends and shop without suffering
from the dampness or rain (of which Vancouver has an
abundance) of the street outside. One could get a

151
prescription and post one's letters at the same time in the
drugstore cum post office, or do some food shopping in the
supermarket across the way, and buy other things from
shoes and clothing to delicate articles from the Chinese gift
shop. Several elderly people moved into the apartments over
the mall for this very reason — that shopping was less of a
chore than having to carry supplies a few blocks away. It
was obvious that, rather than a chore, buying supplies
became quite a pleasure.
The older we become the more interested we are in the
subject of age, and what comes after this life; for dying is a
process which each of us must experience sooner or later. I
have sometimes thought that being born should be of greater
concern since this entails leaving our Home and going out
into the unknown, to an unexplored strange place, that our
progress may be hastened through the trials and tribulations
we will surely encounter, and then — Home again. In many
cases it is not growing old and dying which is the problem,
but the real concern is often whether there will be anyone to
care for us should we cease to be able to look after ourselves,
and whether we will be able to manage from the financial
aspect. When two people have spent the greater part of their
lives together and one partner is left to face the loneliness —
that is hard; and I know of one charming old gentleman who
is in just that position. His health is very poor, as one might
expect of a person well into his eighties, and while he is
patiently living out his lifespan he will be happiest when
the day comes when he will finally join his partner who he
always refers to as ‘my dear wife’ .
There comes to mind the picture of two delightful people
who I have met recently, and though they would be classed
as elderly they are extremely energetic and mentally stimu-
lating. I will call them Grandpa Reginald and Grandma
Janet, and they arrived here from England just a few years
ago. They are the grandparents of Andrew, who I mentioned
before — the young man who decided the Guv was legless,
and although we have had the pleasure of meeting them
only once we have had many interesting conversations by

152
telephone. Grandma has a wonderful sense of humor and
she has many interesting experiences to relate, while
Grandpa is quieter in manner, which is just as well since
Grandma is lively enough for two. It just goes to show that
age is not necessarily the gateway to misery.

153
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

IT was early September when we came to Calgary, and we

never expected we would be able to make the trip since the
Guv continued to have a lot of pain and discomfort. How-
ever, as always, once he has made a decision, he always
seems to be able to see it through, pain or no pain. It was
nice to know too that Miss Cleo and Miss Taddy were wel-
come here, with no likelihood of suddenly being turned out
of their home, because that meant one less worry for the
Guv. In Vancouver, however, where the situation continued
to deteriorate, pets and children were being turned away
from the West End. We heard of a cat whose family had
been asked to have ‘Freddie’ removed from the building
immediately, otherwise notice would be given. And this was
not an isolated case. Freddie was a mature Cat Person, of five
years who had lived in apartments the greater part of his
life, and he was a well-behaved responsible person. I did not
hear the sequel to Freddie's plight but I certainly was thank-
ful to get away from a situation such as this, which I under-
stand is becoming more and more common.
Sometimes one feels one would like to own one's home
where there would be no landlord to answer to, where one
could do as one pleased. But it seems this is not to be; and,
after all, there are many advantages to our present life style.
Here, our Cat Persons are treated very well, with the respect
which is their due. I believe we are quite reasonable tenants,
who do not cause too much trouble, and I like to think that
Carol (who is in charge of this complex) would agree with
this opinion. Perhaps I should ask her! I have several reasons
for being interested in Carol, not the least of which is that
she is amusing — of a type who prevents us all from

154
getting too stuffy. Also, she is interested in things meta-
physical, and I would say she is quite psychic; though, being
modest, she would probably say, ‘No, no, I just have a
hunch about something occasionally.’ Irish modesty no
doubt! Did I say ‘of a type’? Carol is unique. She very
closely resembles my friend Suzzanne; and many of her
‘mannerisms’ are similar. The people we meet from day to
day are very important in our lives for we often see more of
them than we do of our relatives and close friends.
David Niven is another interesting personality, and this
gentleman owns several jewelry stores. Actually his name is
not Niven at all, but he resembles the actor and I happened
to comment upon it one day, so the name has stuck. When-
ever I telephone him he always answers, ‘Hello, this is
David Niven speaking! What can I do for you?’ His wife is
a most sympathetic and understanding person and she is a
very interested reader of the Lobsang Rampa books, with a
sincere belief in the author's concepts. It was indirectly
through the Niven’s that I visited the funeral home last
Christmas. Mrs. M., whose husband had passed away, has
been a member of the Niven's staff for many, many years.
Calgary is not so big that everybody becomes impersonal;
thus it is that one is able to make worthwhile and lasting
associations.
Our postal workers in the local office take a personal
interest in helping their customers; and at present, while the
country is in the throes of a rotating strike, the workers here
find it most embarrassing, and they heartily dislike these
disruptions.
There has been a lot of time for thinking since we came to
Calgary, and the past few months has been a period of ‘re-
viewing’, of looking back to some extent to compare Yester-
day with Today, considering how one might improve one's
self in preparation for the tomorrows which all too soon
will be Todays.
As one grows older one realizes the futility of such states
as worry, fear, anger and the like; and the Guv has an ex-
pression for those who periodically give way to these

155
emotions. He says, ‘Why worry, it won't matter in fifty
years time.’ Quite a consoling thought. And there is an old
saying which has much the same meaning:

‘If there's a cure, try and find it

If there isn't, never mind it.’

I have learnt a great deal through my association with

Lobsang Rampa, probably more than I will ever realize
while I am on the earth. I would have to be pretty dim not
to have benefited from the two decades of our association. I
suppose the outstanding things which are likely to stay in
my consciousness are:

(1) To mind one's own business and to keep one's coun-

sel, not discussing other people's affairs to their detriment.
Not to talk too much and not to tell everything you
know. I have tried to follow this advice and sometimes it
has been a great strain to refrain from saying, ‘Oh I know
about that; I will tell you.’ But then I kept my counsel
and I really find it interesting — to observe but to say
nothing can be fun. People don't know how much you
know and so they will tell you even more.
The Guv says that if you tell all you know, the other
person will think you know even more, and then you
have to work harder not to disappoint him.
I am reminded of one case in particular where a man
talked too much of other people's affairs. He had recently
become the manager of a bank and apparently he dis-
cussed the accounts of one person with another. When it
became known what was happening (after someone com-
plained), well, the poor man was demoted. No, this did
not happen in Canada.

(2) TO BE CHARITABLE. . . . Next to minding one's

own business, the giving of one's time, one's under-
standing, one's forgiveness, can bring joy to the recipient
and contentment to the giver. Even one's material goods.

156
If we have two of something, why not give one to some-
one who is without — if he can use it? Many people have
commented upon the Guv's extreme kindness in this re-
spect and I will go so far as to say that, if he had only one
of something and another person needed it he would pass
it on to the other person.
Unlike many of us, he does not give away only the
things for which he has no use. He gives that which he
treasures if he sees someone wants it.
It is his belief, and mine too, that if a person desires one
of your possessions, that person puts his ‘impression’ on
it, so in a way you have lost it; and the only thing to do is
to hand it over; otherwise, every time you look upon it
you will sense (unless you ‘see’ as the Guv does) the
would be owner's ‘impression’ and you will no longer
enjoy that particular possession. So why have two dis-
satisfied persons? Better to give it away.

(3) TO DISCIPLINE ONE'S SELF. . . The difference be-

tween rabble and a well controlled army is just a matter
of discipline. Anyone possessed of average intelligence
knows that training and reliability make a better person.
Training consists merely of repetition, habit, or whatever
we like to call it; and the first thing is to make a decision
and stick to it. I have not met anyone who had so dis-
ciplined himself as Lobsang Rampa. He will never allow
his physical to overcome his mental state; and the more
desperately sick he may feel he will get up from his bed to
prove to himself that his ‘will’ is the master of his body.
When I started to write these pages I felt the need to do
something different and to work on it regularly, and I
have found the discipline involved very beneficial. When
I told Mr. Sowter I found writing very good therapy, he
expressed surprise. He must have thought I was badly in
need of therapy to adopt such stern measures.
(4) T0 STAND ALONE. . . This, to many people, is
probably the most difficult of all for, though we may have

157
an independent nature, we do not like the idea of standing
alone. The Guv has repeated over and over again that
‘everyone must learn to stand on their own feet for it is
the only way to progress’.
In the final analysis, NO ONE can escape; each one of us
must account for himself. When on occasion I may have
bemoaned the fact that life can be very lonely, I am told:
‘You don't know what loneliness is until you go away
from your own people and your own land, with no hope
of returning: How would you like to be mis-understood
and maligned when all you were trying to do was to help
poor struggling humanity?’
I have thought about it and decided that I could not
bear that kind of loneliness. In my saner moments I re-
alize that, after all, compared to the Guv my conception
of aloneness is nonexistent.

158
 A Final Note

THIS morning I received a letter from a person who had

been reading the Guv's latest book ‘Twilight’, and the
writer suggested it would be nice if I were to write a book of
my own. Apparently she liked my modest contribution to
‘Twilight’.
So, to this reader and the many others who, through the
years, have asked, ‘Why doesn't Ra-ab tell HER story’, I
want you to know I appreciate your interest and I say, with
Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers, I do hope you will like my book.
Thelma says she has enjoyed working on it, but I am sure
she is relieved that we have finished the typescript; though,
without her help I am sure it would have taken much longer
to complete. I also wish to express my gratitude to Irene
Clevering who allowed the work to be done, since she does
not normally undertake literary material.
Let me finish with a tribute to cats and cat lovers, by the
publisher of Cats Magazine, quoted from a Detroit News
Story on cats, and reprinted in the April issue of the maga-
zine:

‘Cat lovers seem to be more sure of themselves and more

satisfied with the way life is.
They are less materialistic, and more thoughtful and
kind.’

THE END

159