Fur In The Paint

I’ve gone from Fur In The Paint, To Fur In The Paper, to Fur In The Everything.
Well the Budda is slimming down for summer. And by “slimming down” I mean dropping about 5 pounds of fur daily. It is everywhere. Rolling along the floor like some some bizarre cat induced tumbleweeds, sticking onto and into any fabric items, or floating like wispy snow flakes through the air. I often find a random hair in my mouth, up my nose or even less pleasant places. How can one little cat drop so much hair?

He is a double coated cat (as are nearly all of our barn cats) so we know this is what happens every spring. But somehow it is always a shock. The quantity is a bit mind boggling and even the vacuum cleaning is beginning to groan. It’s not like he doesn’t get brushed regularly. He does. And we even have a shedding comb that takes off enough hair to create a sweater with matching booties for an average sized Chihuahua. Despite all of these efforts there’s still more.

The Allure Of Belly Fur
We had a friend stop at the gallery and scoop up Budda for a cuddle. (Which Budda really appreciated because Mike and I had been ignoring his pleas for attention. Mike was working with the printer and I was shrinkwrapping prints. Both jobs where additional cat hair is not a plus.) I warned her about the “shedding issue” and she poo-pooed it and rubbed her face in his belly fur. (Honestly his belly fur is particular hard to resist rubbing your face in. It’s bunny soft and frankly how many cats not only let you, but “like to” have your face on their tummies?)

Well for the next 20 minutes and the rest of our conversation, she was wiping her face at phantom hairs.

Furry inventions (sort of)
Feeling badly about not giving Budda nearly as much attention and cuddles as he’s used to, Mike and I pondered a cat holding smock. Something to put on in order to cuddle the kitten and remove when done. This seemed like a pretty straight forward idea but lacked any real defense against the “floaters.”

Upon more serious discussion, we then came up with the idea of some sort of hermetically sealed box where you put your hands through the gloves to pet the cat. Thus containing all the cat hair that is set free from said petting. We dubbed it The Cat Cuddler (trumpets sound) aka The Budda Box

In the end we decided we’d continue to do as we have done, which is cuddle the cat at the end of the day. At least until his fur issue is brought under control. None-the-less we claim all rights to this idea. So I don’t want to see a bunch of cat boxes popping up in pet supply chains. You know I’ll be watching for them.

Note: I imagine The Cat Cuddler is “technically” not hermetically sealed sine it has air holes. Hmmm . . . I may have to do some rethinking on that.

The Cat CuddlerAlso Known As The Budda Box.

As a long time gallery cat, Budda has generously agreed to answers your art and/or cat related questions around the first of every month.

Dear Mr Budda,
My cat, Miss Priss is always washing herself. If she’s really that dirty shouldn’t I help out by bathing her?
Signed All Washed Up

Dear All Washed Up
No. I suggest you let your cat bathe herself, or else her hair will stick to your tongue, something wicked.

Dear The Budda,
I am an art student and my instructor says that I have kissing issues. Since I’m not sure what that means, how do I avoid kissing?
Signed The Puckered Painter

Dear Puckered,
Well when my human looks like she is about to plant one on the top of my head I usually put my feet on her chin, lock my legs, close my eyes and twist my face away while mentally screaming “No. . . for the love of God, nooooooo!.” and then . . .

Oh wait. I bet your instructor was referring to kissing in the artistic sense.

Kissing as it applies to art is where one object touches (or almost touches) another object or the edge of artwork. In general kissing is seen as a novice mistake but many professional “kiss” intentionally. . . and sometimes not. To avoid kissing simply make any connections between objects (or the edge of the artwork) solid and into said object deeper than it’s edge. As with all rules, first you must learn them before you start breaking them.

As always, those of you who are googling for enlightenment . . . this ain’t it.

Dear Mr Budda,
I’ve noticed that once a genre’ becomes popular, for instance around here Tuscan scenes and wine bottles are all the rage, it seems that many artists quite doing what they do and start to paint the current trend.

Why do so many artists do this instead of creating work that is true to who they are?
Signed Wide-Eyed Wonderer

Dear Wonderer,
I don’t know why $ome arti$t$ paint the late$t fad. But I re$pect their right to do $o. And $o $hould you.

Note: these “questions” were based on search terms that brought people to my blog. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Budda is currently working hard (well, as hard as any cat works) on a special Ask The Budda: Halloween Edition. If anyone has any questions they’d like to submit for Budda’s review, you are all welcome to do so. Just leave a comment here or contact me directly

As a long time gallery cat Budda has generously agreed to answers your art and/or cat related questions around the first of every month.

Dear Mr Budda,
I think I am suffering from a creative block. What is it and how can I get over it?
Signed All Stopped Up

Dear Stopped Up,
Creative block is just feeling like you have nothing to say accompanied with the overwhelming urge to say something. My advice is if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise just enjoy the silence.

Dear Mr. Budda,
Why does my cat Sugglebottoms keep shoving his toys under the door. Seriously what’s the point of that? Is there something wrong with him?
Signed Dazed and Confused

Dear Dazed and Confused,
I don’t know what your talking about. I’m sure those wily toys are simply trying to make a break for it (so they can plot the end of the universe in private) and your cat is heroically trying to stop them. I know my toys are always hiding themselves under rugs, in planters, under the couch and in bags. Toys are way smarter than your giving them credit for, as is your cat.

As always, those of you who are googling for enlightenment . . . this ain’t it.

I suggest you praise your kitty for a job well done and get him more treats! The tender fishy kind, not those hard “good for you but tastes like dirt” kind.

Dear Mr. Budda,
How do I remove paint from cat fur?
Signed Out of Options

Dear Out of Options,
Why are you painting your cat anyway?
Stop it! Stop it right now!

Note: these “questions” were based on search terms that brought people to my blog. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. If anyone has any questions they’d like to submit for Budda’s review, you are all welcome to do so. Just leave a comment here or contact me directly

I was looking on Melanie’s blog the other day and she mentioned a couple of pet portrait friends had come over for a visit. So I followed their links back and was once again impressed with the skill they possess at capturing not only the likeness but also the personality of their subjects. All that talent got me inspired to try to do Budda.

He is such a mischievous little bugger that I thought perhaps him napping might be a nice change of pace. You know . . . something I could reflect on art wise. So when he has done something really naughty, I can look at it and sigh wistfully.

The opportunity to take a couple of candid snaps presented itself much sooner than expected. He was passed out on the rug in a spot of sunshine after a full afternoon of pushing my buttons by climbing on top every surface in the gallery, where he is not allowed.

Okay here’s the odd bit. He meows to get my attention when he’s being bad. Oh yes, he knows he’s not supposed to be on my framing table (nothing more annoying than having to open up a frame because Budda left a calling card hair inside). But if my attention is otherwise occupied he wants to make sure I know he is being bad. I mean really what fun is being bad if no one “knows” your being bad.

So he meows plaintively, like he is hurt or lost. I come in slightly worried only to see him him lazing on some surface. I swear he mentally says “Tah Dah!” I growl a “Get down!” I am relieved he is okay and annoyed he has once again tricked me into rewarding his bad behavior by doing exactly what he wanted, And then he flees the room quite proud of himself. Only to meow 15 minutes later from another counter in another room. (I am seriously thinking of getting him a pet dog to keep him entertained.) Perhaps he is bored, but Mike and I give that cat so much attention and affection and . . . Oops got a little lost from my topic there.

So I see him napping and I grab the camera and gently ease myself down onto the rug with him. Yeah okay, so I should have guessed that as soon as he had my undivided attention he’d quit napping.

He promptly gets up and comes over for a cuddle. It’s hard to remember that I am annoyed with him when he is all warm and purring against my cheek. Little plushkin knows just how to play me.

Nothing here is portrait worthy. I’ll try again as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

Okay once again anyone googling for enlightenment, this ain’t it.

Oh . . . and Buddha the spiritual leader, has an ‘h” in it. Budda the lazy gallery cat . . . no “h.”

This happens to be Budda’s favorite way of looking at the world. He prefers to see things upside down. Whenever we pick him up for a cuddle, (in this instance it is Mike my husband doing the holding) this is the position he takes within minutes.

If you wander around the gallery while carrying him like this he reaches out and tries to touch stuff on the way by. We call it the “touch touch” game. (Said with the rolling of eyes) Yeah, I know, how incredibly creative are we.

Relaxation according to Budda

Since we are deep into the holiday season, and most of us are pushed beyond our usual endurance, trying to get everything done and make everyone happy, Budda thought it might be good to give you a few de-stressing tips.

So the first thing you need to do is find someone to help support you. You know, someone who you can rely on not to let you down.

Then you just have to take a deep breath, let go and relax. Thaaaats it. Feel the chi flowing throughout your body. Stretch just a little farther, hold and relax. Can you feel your chakra’s opening?

It is good to note that stretching is excellent for the circulation and the back muscles. To avoid injury, stretching should be done as often as possible before any kind of activity is undertaken . . . including naps.

We’ll end with one of Budda’s favorite quotes (oh yes, he is quite the literary scholar)

“The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.”

-Marcus Aureluis

I had stayed rather late at the gallery the other night, working on my Colton painting. It was well after 10pm and I took a break to rest my hand and my mind, by laying on the couch. I shut off the overhead lights but had left my matboard room lit so we’d have a nice soft glow. The radio was playing country music in the background (a new found interest. I have never been a country music listener but somehow of late . . . say the past 3 days . . . it seems to speak to me.)

So there I am in almost total darkness, music playing, feet up and totally relaxing and I hear “Mrowr!” and the frantic pattering of tiny feet. I open one eye and see a shadowy Budda. Head down, back arched and tail all poofy, spronking back and forth in front of the couch.

Seeing that he is obviously up to no good, or at the very least he’s in no mood to let me relax and nap. I growl out a threatening “Budda!” and he promptly collapses on the floor staring at me. I close my eyes but can’t quite relax as well as before. I open my eyes and he is still staring at me. Tail thwonking back and forth in an agitated manner.

I say “You be good! Or I’m going to have to spank your buttcheeks! . . . Spank! . . . Spank!” (That happens to be my favorite threat. Occasionally I accompany a hand clap on the Spank part. He never gets spanked so it is really an idle warning. Unfortunately he knows it.)

He drops his head to floor and remains motionless. I keep watching him, making eye contact in a way that I hope says “knock it off, I mean it!” He looks away (clearly submitting to my awesome superiority) and casually rolls onto his side, looking off in another direction, decidely bored. I close my eyes.

Suddenly I hear the rapid patter of feet but before I can even get my eyes open, he bolts over and bounces off my shoulder with his whole body while making a loud “Mmrooowrr!!!” translation “Boo!” And yes, I yelped in surprise as he giggles happily to himself while running full tilt out of the front room as fast as his little legs can carry him.

Budda is 11 months old today. Ah, they grow up so fast.

So here I am working diligently and nature calls. I wander over to my bathroom feeling safe because no one is in the gallery. I close the door.

I should mention here that my building is nearly 100 years old. Most doors don’t really latch well unless you concentrate while closing and listen for the click. Also the toilet can be seen from front room of the gallery when the door is open so you’d think I would be more careful.

So there I was, just about to get really comfortable and the door trembles and I can see a shadow moving under the door. Startled I tense up and babble something like “I’ll be right out!” I listen. . . No response. The door shudders again.

Suddenly swoosh . . . the door swings wide and there sits Budda, looking smug. I swear softly and say “Geez Budda, you scared the (deleted for inappropriate content) out of me.” Good thing I was already sitting down. He meows lazily and ambles in.

This has become a daily occurance (thus the photo of him breaking and entering) and I have yet to learn to listen to click of the latch. Unfortunately he has realized that this is an excellent place for him to get petted. (because like an idiot, I picked him up and petted him. After all I am just sitting there.) Plus he is obsessed with the toilet. His own private splash bowl whenever Mike or I forget to close the lid.

Little weirdo.

Recently, I swapped my clay litter to try some of the natural brands on the market. I had been using Tidy Cat for years and have always been pleased with it. But being of the organic minded, natural is better mentality, we thought we’d try a few out. We used them both for Budda (single cat,) as well as the Hell Cat pack (multi-cat.)

We tried several varieties made from wheat, corn and pine. All of them performed as well as the clay litters, in everything except clumping. They do clump, but not the “rock solid” that most promote on their bag. Most often it is more like week old oatmeal. All of them did well on the odor control. Extremely important since my cat box is in the front room of the gallery. (Long story as to why) In fact, I preferred the non-smell of the naturals to the perfumey clay litter.

The brand that I was most satisfied with was Fresh Results which is made form corn and has a nice subtle pine scent to it. It clumps reasonably well. It last way longer than clay litters and is cheaper. The only downside to the naturals is they track more because they are so light. However they are far less dusty. The 99% dust free clay litters, send up billowing clouds when I would fill the box. Nothing visible from the naturals.

Silent But Deadly
My little man is growing up. He has lost some baby teeth and we have begun switching him off his kitten food to an all natural adult food. I do this slowly by mixing in, ever increasing amounts of the new food to avoid stomach upset. That being said, he has been experiencing some gas issues lately.

It goes something like this:
Me: Holding cat. Telling him how cute he is.
Budda: Rolling around in my arms, purring, stretching and nuzzling.
Me: Gee, I think I smell something. It kinda stinks. I wonder if I stepped in something. (Living on a farm that is usually the first thought that runs through my head.) Examine bottom of shoes. After another moment my eyes start watering, my ears ring and my nose begins to burn. WHEW! I plunk cat down and run from the room. Budda tripping along pleasantly behind me, hoping for more cuddles.

They may only be teeny-tiny kitten farts, but they could peel the paint of a car.

Well, it has been a chaotic ten days or so. Budda has been sick. We’ve had multiple vet trips (the last one we traveled an hour away to get some blood work done.) He quit eating. Not entirely, but only a handful of pieces of cat food per day. He normally consumes about 2 cups. I even offered canned stuffs, not cheapo ones either. He got Fancy Feast chicken and cheese soufflé. Let me tell ya, I think had I nuked it and put it on a plate, Mike would have eaten it. Anyway, I have never had an animal with this sort of problem. After much $$$ turns out he is healthy. Or should I say, disease or organ problems were not the cause. Best professional guess is, he was partially impacted in the gut. As long as he ate something, it was a wait and see. Had he stopped eating entirely, it probably would have meant surgery. The good news is, he is back to being ravenous and is bouncing off the walls. (literally)

The other thing is, I have a patron coming on Saturday to pick up one (maybe two) original paintings. I’m not sure how far it is from Ohio to Iowa, but I figured I should at least clean the cat hair off from everything. Thus my blogging and art making has suffered a bit this week. I’ve got plans, though I imagine it will be a few days before I am back to doing anything artsy.

So for today, this is all I have to offer. I am not completely satisfied with my trailer, as of yet. I kinda wanted it to be very subtle and it is a little too prominent for my taste. (though in this photo it is very washed out. I think my camera flashed and I didn’t notice.) Also, I want to darken his butt and neck area up a bit. Give him even more pop. And lastly, I haven’t come up with a name for him yet. Field Day perhaps? I’ve done too many draft horse paintings to be creative with their titles anymore. As always any comments or suggestions are welcome.

I was alone in the gallery and working on the composition for my latest painting. I had gone to the framing room to get my yard stick. The lights were off, since I had spent much of the day in the front of the gallery. Now my framing room is completely windowless, so it really is quite dark when the lights are off. As I am walking back to the front room, I hear the frenzied little pitter patting of feet. I stop and listen . . . silence. (It reminded me of those shows where they have a hiker in the woods somewhere, being stalked by something. The hiker senses he is in trouble. The hairs on his neck stand up, adrenalin courses through his body, and he gets the distinct feeling that he is being watched. But he just can’t determine from where.) It was exactly like that!

I slowly turn around and see nothing but darkness. I hold my breath and listen . . . more silence. There is a door that closes this room off, from the front room. It is open, but blocking my view of everything to the right of it. So I peek into the door crack, squinting hard to see if I could see anything.

SMACK! I hop backward and squeal, in a volume and pitch usually only heard in small children. After a moment, I hear the frenzied little pitter patting of feet running away.

Dramatic Re-creation. Those of a sensitive nature should avert their eyes.

I have to admire the skill and dexterity in which he pulled that off. I mean, he jumped 3-4 feet in the air, shoved his whole arm through the door crack and slapped me full on the cheek.

Well it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? I point and laugh at Mike getting slapped by the cat. And then he gets me too. Is it karma, or once again, am I being struck down for my hubris?

Nature or Nurture
Oliver, the previous king of the gallery, was big into slapping. Mostly he did a flyby type where he ran full tilt, slapped the back of your leg, and continued on out of the room. The rooms in the gallery form a big circle. Which makes this form of attack, perfect for the getaway.

Ollie also slapped faces, and on rare occasion, people’s butts as they walked out the door. One of my customers suggested I make a sign “Don’t let the cat hit you on the ass, on your way out the door.”

I always took it for granted that this behavior was hard wired into him. But now, I think we may have created it. Since Budda has never slapped anyone, for any reason, until recently.

I think it happened like this:
Budda spends time plotting his plan of attack.
He runs in, makes a successful slap.
We squeal appropriately. (the big payoff)
He runs away laughing maniacally to himself.
Budda spends time plotting his plan of attack.

And thus, another slapping gallery cat has been created.