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I don't think people realize how difficult it is to get an appropriately catty pose without it bordering upon the ridiculous. Today, for instance, Moose (my cat) got his head stuck in my tennis shoe, chasing a dog kibble that he'd put in there. Engaging, yes. Memorable, yes. But fine art? Hardly.
Likewise, a few days ago I found him sitting placidly in the bowl of my toilet, studying the drain as if waiting for it to flush him away. Interesting, yes. Cattish, yes. The stuff of art cards? I think not.
So having Moose as a muse has its distinct trials. Though he does run eagerly to me if he sees the camera ("time to work! my public awaits!"), some days he would rather climb the blinds and thumb his feline nostril parts at my attempts to catch him in an endearing position.
Anyway, today you can see that he was rolling around in our entryway rug, oblivious to how idiotic he looked. Wait . . . how is that different from his normal behavior?
So today is Saturday. End of a week. Woof. I need a day off. Throughout the course of the week, my desk slowly gets covered with more and more art materials until finally:
By this point, it takes me about five minutes to locate the remote phone when it rings. Oh, how silly of me. It was nestled beneath my cadmium orange paint jug. What's worse is when my husband Ed sets an important piece of paper somewhere on the desk at the beginning of the week. And then expects to come back and get it at the end of the week. Ha! Double ha! What's he think this desk is for anyway? Not paperwork, surely.