Living with the Lama (1964)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“We must hurry, Feef,” said Miss Ku, “the Guv and Buttercup arrive tomorrow and we must know every inch of the place before they get here. Follow me!” She turned and led the way into a room. “This is the Living Room,” she remarked; “Jump up here, it is three cats high, and then you are facing a window.” She led me along, pointing out various items of interest. Then we wandered into the room which was going to be the Guv's bedroom and mine. “I can see the water through the trees, Feef,” said Miss Ku. Just then a frightful clatter broke out beneath us, a roaring, grinding, clattering sound filled with many hisses. We jumped straight up in the air with fright, and coming down I missed the bed and fell on the floor. “Glory Be and Fifty Tomcats!” exclaimed Miss Ku, “WHAT WAS THAT?” Fortunately, Ma spoke to Mrs. Durr, “Oh! That will be the pump I expect, all the water is pumped from the lake.”

We sat back at ease, there was nothing to worry about, I had memorised the noise. “There is a grille thing here, Feef,” said Miss Ku, “Must be to let the water out if the house gets flooded or something.” Startlingly there was a muffled roar beneath us, and hot air beat upon us like a giant's breath. We turned and fled to the safety beneath the bed and awaited results. “Aw gee!” said Miss Ku disgustedly, “There is nothing to it, that is just the heating blower. I thought first the biggest tomcat in all creation was coming after us.”

“Feef!” Miss Ku gave me a nudge; I had been dozing. “Feef, there is a little wood outside. I expect the Old Man will let us play there when he gets on his hind legs again.” It made me feel sad that the Guv was still on the road somewhere and would not arrive until tomorrow. To distract my mind from such thoughts I rose to my feet and wandered around, feeling my way very carefully. From somewhere came a ‘tap-tap’ as a branch, blowing in the wind, knocked against the roof. The place was nothing wonderful, being quite ‘run-down’ but it would do for very temporary accommodation. It was not a place that we would want to call ‘home,’ we would not have lived there permanently even if it had been given to us.

That night we went to bed early. Mrs. Durr had to drive back to Windsor in the morning. Miss Ku and I had hoped that she was going to stay for a while, but as we thought about it we realised that her books would be lonely without her, and Mr. Chuli Durr was growing into a fine young Siamese Tomcat and would need attention. In the night the pump clattered and groaned, and the heating system wheezed and puffed. Outside the trees creaked and swished their leaves in the night wind which blew off the lake. Miss Ku crept close to me once during the night and whispered in a quavering voice, “Gee! Its a spooky place, Feef, with all these trees, and I just saw a great big spider looking at me!” The night seemed to last a very long time, when I was beginning to think it would never end I heard faint twitterings from birds in the trees as they made their food-finding plans for the day. Somewhere a squirrel scrabbled noisily beneath the window. I could sense that the day was upon us.

Ma stirred and reluctantly got up to face a new day, a day in which much had to be done in order to get the place clean. Miss Ku and I wandered around, trying to think of any places we had not already investigated. We knew there was a big basement underneath the house, but Ma had told us we could not go down there until the Guv came because there were pumps and things which whirred and buzzed and moved. We ambled idly into a front room and jumped on to a window sill. “Well I never! Did you ever?” exclaimed Miss Ku, “there is a thieving squirrel—no—HUNDREDS of them, eating our trees!” She tapped her foot with annoyance and, to distract her, I said, “What is it like out there, Miss Ku?” “Oh, quite a run-down place,” she remarked, “trees need pruning, grounds need cleaning, house needs painting, the usual run of things in these dumps which are rented. Read about it in the ads and you think you are going to a palace. See it, and you wonder how the heap will last for another winter.”

The rest of the morning was very hard, furniture to be moved around and cleaning to be done and only Miss Ku and me there to tell Ma and Mrs. Durr how to do it. We were quite exhausted when Miss Ku looked out of the window and said, “The Guv and Buttercup have just driven in.” “You are just in time to say goodbye!” said Mrs. Durr, “I must be getting back or I shall be in trouble!”

For the rest of the day we stayed in and worked. On the following day the weather was warm and sunny. The Guv said “Come on, cats, let us go into the garden!” He picked me up and put me across his shoulder. Miss Ku was already dancing with excitement at the door. We went out, and the Guv put me on the ground at the foot of a tree. “OW!” yelled Miss Ku, “The trees are so big!” “I used to climb trees like this, Miss Ku,” I replied, “we had such trees in France.” “Garth!” snarled the surly voice of Two Houses Back Cat, “You ***** foreign cats are no good nohow. Old blind cat there never climbed a tree in her life, only Canadian cats can climb—and how!” He turned, and yelled derisively across to the Caretaker Cat from a local Institution. “Dese foreigners think we cats are hicks, they don't do no climbing!” “Is that so Canadian Cat?” I responded, “Then let me show you that an old blind cat CAN climb!” I put my arms out- stretched on the tree trunk and walked up as I used to do in France in the old bad days. I walked up about twenty five or thirty feet and then lay at full length along a branch.

Ma came rushing out full of concern, Buttercup came out as well, going “tsk! tsk! tsk!” They rushed round the house to where a ladder was stored. The Guv stood by the tree so that he could catch me if I fell. Ma and Buttercup came running up with the ladder, the Guv grabbed it and put it against the trunk. Slowly he climbed up, gently lifted me and put me across his shoulder. “Silly Old Woman Cat” he said mildly, “whoever heard of blind cats climbing trees!” I felt sorry, I could hear his heart thumping, and then I thought of his coronary thrombosis. Still, I HAD shown that stupid Canadian cat!

Miss Ku lay back and laughed and laughed and laughed. “Oh, Feef!” she exclaimed when she could control her mirth, “That was the funniest sight I've seen in years, you scared the acorns out of half a dozen squirrels—they went leaping away like mad things. Two Houses Back Cat took off like lightning with One House Up Dog after him. Are you ever clever, Feef!” She was so amused that she lay on her back and rolled and rolled and rolled. “You ought to have your brains tested, Feef,” said the Guv, “only you have no brains to test.” Still, it made me feel good to know that a blind old French Siamese Cat could make Miss Ku laugh!

The Guv and Ma often took Miss Ku and me into the woods and let us play amid the trees. Knowing that cats are unpredictable, the Guv kept a ladder close at hand! The grounds swarmed with snakes, and Miss Ku was fascinated with them. I was always very careful as I was frightened of stepping on one. There was a Gentleman Ground Hog who lived in a hole in the ground near an old old tree. I spoke to him many times. Miss Ku said he used to sit at his front door and watch us as we took our exercise. Of course we kept our distance as we had not been introduced, but we had a high regard for him and he told us much about the place and about the local inhabitants of the trees and ground. “Watch out for the Raccoon,” he said; “he plays a little rough if he is feeling cross, and he will knock the stuffing out of any dog. Well, I must go down and clean up!” He disappeared and Miss Ku said, “Gee! What in the name of Tarnation is a raccoon?” “I am afraid I cannot tell you, Miss Ku,” I replied. She sat for a time, then scratching an ear reflectively, she remarked, “Ma collects those animal picture cards from the Tea Bag Boxes. I will have a look at them when we go in. Raccoon? Hmm!” We went in and Buttercup was dusting. We always kept out of the way when she had a Dusting Mood on because there was always a danger that we would be swept up. All was dirt before her when she had a duster or vacuum cleaner in her hands. Miss Ku rummaged round and I heard things falling on to the floor. “What are you doing, Ku?” asked Buttercup a little crossly. “Come into the bedroom, Feef,” said Miss Ku, “don't take any notice of Buttercup, she has A Mood on because the Cleaner lead said ‘ker-puff’ and won't work.”

There was a boat thing which the Guv had rented and one afternoon, when the sun was hot and high in the sky, he said, “Come on, let's take the cats on the lake.” “Not me, Guv,” I replied nervously, “Include me out!” “Oh come on, Feef, don't be such a sissy!” said the Guv. Ma carried Miss Ku and the Guv carried me. We went down the path to the lake and the Guv got the boat thing ready and held it tightly by a strong rope so that it would not escape. Ma and Miss Ku got on the thing and then the Guv lifted me in. There was some rocking and a splash or two and I felt us moving. “I won't start the motor,” said the Guv, “the noise may be too much for them.” We drifted along and Miss Ku sat in the front and sang “A seafaring cat am I.” Unfortunately she had to break off to say “OW! I'm going to be seasick!”

The Guv pulled a piece of string and a motor roared at us and nearly frightened us into having kittens! The boat went fast and Miss Ku was so interested she forgot to be sick. She yelled at me, “We are twenty feet from America, Feef, this is Grand Island. This is Grand Boating, too!” Fortunately the sun got itself covered by a cloud and the Guv decided to take us home. I was very glad as I did not like to think of all that water around. I just could not see any sense in floating around in a thing that might sink, it seemed to me that we had enough trouble without inviting any more. We went home and then we had some tea. Evenings were becoming shorter, so we all went to bed early.

Miss Ku and I sat on the window sill in the Guv's bedroom. Outside there were all the sounds of the night. Beneath the floorboards a field mouse said that it must get in some more food for the coming winter. Suddenly Miss Ku crouched low and growled deep in her throat. “Glory Be!” she exclaimed, “there is a huge cat in a striped football jersey!” A very pleasant telepathic voice broke in, “And are you the foreign Lady Cats that I have heard about?” “Sure are, Bud,” replied Miss Ku, “What in Heck are you?” The Voice came again and there was a suspicion of a chuckle in it, “I am Raku the Raccoon, I live here and keep the night free of prowling dogs.” “Pleased to meet you,” replied Miss Ku, “particularly as there is thick-plate glass between us!” “Oh! You'd be quite safe with me,” answered Raku the Raccoon, “I always respect the interests of tenants. Now I must get about my business.”

“Miss Ku,” I said, “He seems to be a very pleasant gentleman, what does he look like?” She thought for a moment, then settled down to wash as she replied, “Well, he looks like a whacking great tomcat, biggest tomcat you ever saw. Bigger than many dogs. Stripes all along his tail as if he had got bars of wet paint from some cage. And his claws . . . !” She paused for emphasis, and then added, “He's got claws like the thing Buttercup uses to rake up the leaves. Oh! A VERY pleasant gentleman—if one keeps the right side of him, and the right side is with a brick wall in between.” The Voice came again, “Hey! Before I forget, feel free to use the woods as if you owned the place, you will be very welcome!” “I am sure we are most honoured,” I replied, “I will ask Ma to invite you to tea sometime.” “Well!” exclaimed Miss Ku, “Guess I must hit the sack. Busy day tomorrow, the Guv is taking me to Ridgeway—I have some shopping to do.” She wandered off to sleep beside Ma.

The weather was rapidly becoming colder. Leaves were falling with a continuous dry rustle, and the squirrels, who had been idle through the false warmth of the autumn, were rooting frantically through the piles of leaves in search of acorns. Buttercup raked leaves, talked leaves, and smelled of leaves. Still the leaves came down in endless profusion. The smoke of burning leaves rose to the heavens from all the houses in the district and from the great stretches of parkland. The air became colder, now only the Guv went out without his coat. Buttercup wrapped up—as Miss Ku said—as if she were at a particularly cold North Pole. One morning we awakened to find snow driving across the lake, piling up in front of the house, and making the roads impassable. With tremendous roars and clatters the snow ploughs came out, their scraper blades slithering and juddering along the icy surface of the road.

After the snow, came the freeze-up. The lake froze, a nearby creek became a solid mass of ice. Crazy fishermen came with special tools and cut holes in the several-feet-thick ice so that they could sit and shiver and pretend to catch fish. Morning after morning the roads were snowed up and traffic was halted. Great storms raged and howled around the house. One night the water pump stopped. The Guv got out of bed at two in the morning and went down to the lake carrying a great iron bar and a heavy hammer. Ma got up and put on the kettle for tea. I could hear hammering and the sound of breaking ice. “Miss Ku,” I asked, “What is it all about?” “If the Guv can't break up the ice around the water intake we shall have no water for the winter. Y'see, Feef, it is so cold that the lake has frozen. The Old Man has gone to dig out the ice and then we shall keep a tap slightly on.” I shuddered, this Canada seemed to be a cold, cruel country, with no civilised amenities such as one would have in Europe.

With the coming of the cold, Ma put out food every night for the wild creatures who otherwise would have died of starvation. Mister the Raccoon was very grateful and came to our window every night. Mister the Canadian Badger came as well, but the most amusing episode was provided by Mouse Rouse! Buttercup was doing some washing in the basement one day when a very pleasant, well-spoken mouse came and sat on her foot. (Miss Ku says it was a lemming, but mouse is good enough for me.) This Mouse formed a firm attachment for Buttercup and she seemed to be equally attached to him. After the monkey episode nothing at all surprised us about Buttercup. “We must remember our manners, Feef, and not eat the fellow,” said Miss Ku. Buttercup and Mouse Rouse had many pleasant moments together in the basement. Miss Ku and I assured him that we would not harm him, so he took no notice of us but just mooned about after Buttercup. It was MOST touching!

The winter gave way to spring and we were glad to leave that place and move to another nearer the shops. There was still no work available for the Guv. In desperation he wrote to the Prime Minister of Canada, to the Minister of Immigration, and to the Minister of Labour. Not one of them seemed to care in the slightest; these Ministers appeared to be even worse than those in other countries. I suppose that it is because Canada is so uncultured, so unfriendly. Now we live in hopes of making enough money to get OUT of Canada!

I sat in the window of our new Apartment and had a friendly chat with the Cat who ran a Motel. I told him of our adventures. “Aw, Feef!” said Miss Ku, “You should write a book!” I turned it over in my mind, and in the stillness of the night, when both of us were awake, I discussed it with the Guv. “Guv!” I said, “Do you think I could write a book?” “Sure you could, Feef,” he replied, “You are a very intelligent Old Granny Cat.” “But I can't type,” I protested, “Then you shall dictate it to me and I will type it for you, Feef,” he said. In the morning we sat down together. He opened the typewriter, the grey Olympia which already has typed “The Third Eye”, “Doctor from Lhasa”, and “The Rampa Story”. Opened the typewriter, and said, “Come on, Feef, start dictating!” So, with his encouragement, and with Miss Ku to help me, I have at last finished this book. Do you like it?

“KINDNESS TO PUBLISHERS” DEPARTMENT

Throughout the years since “The Third Eye” first appeared I have had a tremendous amount of mail, and up to the present I have always answered that mail. Now I have to say that I am no longer able to reply to any mail at all unless adequate return postage is enclosed. So please do NOT send letters to my Publisher for forwarding to me because I have asked my Publisher not to forward any letters.

People forget that they pay for a BOOK and NOT a lifetime of free postpaid advisory service. Publishers are PUBLISHERS—not a letter forwarding service.

I have had letters from all over the world, even from well behind the Iron Curtain, but not one in several thousand people encloses return postage, and the cost is so much that I can no longer undertake replies.

People ask such peculiar things too. Here are just some:

There was a very desperate letter from Australia which reached me when I was in Ireland. The matter was (apparently) truly urgent so at my own expense I sent a cable to Australia, and I did not even receive a note of thanks.

A certain gentleman in the U.S.A. wrote me a letter DEMANDING that I should immediately write a thesis for him and send it by return airmail. He wanted to use it as his thesis to obtain a Doctorate in Oriental Philosophy. Of course he did not enclose any postage; it was merely a somewhat threatening demand!

An Englishman wrote me a very, very haughty letter in the third person, demanding my credentials. And only if they were completely satisfactory to this person would he consider placing himself under my tuition, provided that there would be no charge for it. In other words, I was supposed to be honoured. (I do not think he would like my reply!)

Another one wrote to me and said that if I “and my chums” would come from Tibet and cluster around his bed in the astral at night then he would be able to feel more happy about astral travelling.

Other people write to me and ask me everything from high esoteric things (which I can answer if I want to) to how to keep hens and ones husband! People also consider that they should write to me just whenever they think they should and then they get offensive if I do not reply by return airmail.

I will ask you NOT to bother my Publishers, in fact I have asked them not to send on any letters to me because they are in business as Publishers. For those who really do need an answer (although I do not invite letters) I have an accommodation address. It is:
Dr T Lobsang Rampa,

BM/TLR,

London W.C.I., England
I do not guarantee any reply, and if you use this address you will have to provide very adequate postage because the letters will be forwarded to me and I shall have to pay, so I shall not be in a sweet enough mood to reply unless you have made my expense your expense. For example, it will cost me a dollar at least by the time forwarding charges are paid.