Fur In The Paint

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.

Well . . . that’s not quite right. And it certainly wasn’t cat-astrophic. It is more like Cat-pain in the butt.

It was my fault really (I wonder . . . if by taking the blame am I enabling?) I left my painting water out. It has been so long since I did a water color pencil piece that I had forgotten Budda’s love affair with drinking and playing in my rinse water. (During this painting he hadn’t touched it until today.)

My first clue that something was up was when I hear Mreow! from the other room, followed by him rapidly fleeing the scene of the crime. Since I didn’t see what happened all I can do is use my highly tuned investigative knowledge and piece together the trail of evidence.

I’m guessing: He started with the drinking of the rinse water “ummm, tastes so good” When he drank his fill, he must have splashed around in it abit. Upon getting bored he noticed the paint brushes sitting behind the water dish. (Best cat toy in the world those furry sticks.) Since the only way to get to them was to go through my water, well so be it. Water spilled all over my pencils (a rainbow of color begins to puddle), brushes fall to the floor in a clatter, and he dashes away as I say in a combination slightly worried/slightly annoyed way Budda!

Fortunately the painting is fine. I just got to spend the next 20 minutes drying each of my 30 or so pencils (one at a time) and mopping up my table and the floor.

And Budda . . . well he sat grooming himself on the couch in a warm patch of sunlight.

Today I was greeted by the pleasant surprise that Budda and I are featured with a story, as cat lady #32 for 2009 on the 365 Cat Ladies Blog.

It’s a fun site with charming and whimsical artwork by Susan Faye, especially for the feline fanatics among us. (A sample of her art is shown here to the left. )

She has a great CafePress store where you can get all sorts of her artwork on stuff like cups and totes. What fun! (Makes me think about trying a little something with CafePress.)

Anway, she’s also on the lookout for cat stories, so anyone got something they want to share should go visit her site as well. And feel free to leave a comment, she’d love to hear your thoughts.

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

Everyone here at Wild Faces Gallery (and Mojo the cat) are wishing you a fun filled Halloween.

Mojo requests tuna treats . . . or chicken, yeah . . . chicken. Oh, or maybe eggs. Yummy!

Treats only please, no tricks. Unless you want a black cat to cross your path at least a dozen times.

Trick or bicuits?
Here at WFG, not only do we get the usual kind of trick or treaters. We also get the four-legged variety. We are a pet friendly place. (That excludes Budda. He thinks all other critters are evil and must be destroyed. Well . . . maybe not “destroyed.” Maybe just glared at while every hair on his body is on end, and occasionally making threatening facial gestures at them.)

This is Lizzie, who came to the gallery to show off her new witch costume. How cute is she!

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.

I do have a business post in the works and with any luck it will get posted tomorrow. Also will hopefully get started on a painting tomorrow. I got the gallery put back together and I think I have a handle on my customer orders.

These little ratty looking critters are Little Gray’s (LG) latest batch of kittens. LG is Budda’s mom and is notorious for large batches of kittens. Last year she had a litter of 7, then I added one whos mom got killed. She raised them all up to be healthy. This group has nine (as in 9) kittens! I’m like, “I wonder what the guiness record is for cat litters.” They are a little over a week old and are already beginning to open their eyes.

Lg is a special cat in that she is the only barn cat that gets to come in the house (in a porch) whenever she wants. She also get as much food as she wants and first choice of any food scraps like egg yolks which I don’t eat. Hmmm. . . do you suppose that has anything to do with all these kittens?

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.

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.