Fur In The Paint

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.

As a young kitten, growing towards the path of enlightenment, Budda faces a struggle between his inner Yin and Yang. Though, these listed here are by no means all the temptations he must face and eventually conquer. These are proving the most difficult to master.

Plants The urge to climb the palms has more than once lured him into temptation, as has eating them, and playing with their dirt.

Bugs Now while hunting bugs is an acceptable form of entertainment. Flinging himself wildly in the air, paws swinging crazily, heedless to where he may crash into, is not.

Making his own cat toys in particular my paintbrushes. Something about those furry sticks, he just can’t resist.

Unsuspecting People In truth, even the wizened Oliver, had trouble with this one, well into his advanced years. Budda’s most recent failure to maintain peaceful centeredness, involved an incident while Mike was napping on the couch. Budda hunkered down as if stalking, then catapulted himself on Mike’s chest. After a dramatic pause, he threw in a 2 pawed slap in the face, for good measure. (I think Budda still chuckles to himself, when thinking of this. Uh . . . anyway I do.)

Water Water is by far his greatest challenge. Any water poses the threat of pulling him over to the dark side of temptation. (Thats a mixed Zen/Stars Wars reference in case you missed it.) Oddly enough the only water he doesn’t like, is the water he gets sprayed with, for doing the naughty things listed here. Hmmm.

Food Dish Water - His water in his food dishes are a great time for splashing about. It goes something like this. Slap paw onto surface of water. Hold paw aloft while watching water intently, realize paw is wet, then furiously shake water off paw. Repeat.

Paint Rinsing Water – Has that extra something that makes it so refreshing to drink. (note: My water color pencils are completely non-toxic. Still he gets in trouble for it. I mean it can’t exactly be beneficial to drink either.)

Toilet Bowl Water – Its like his own personal fountain and splash bowl in one.

Answer me this: How does a cat manage to get water all over the toilet seat, the floor, and half way up the wall, and yet he, himself remains completely dry?

To help Budda on his path towards enlightenment we now, close the toilet lid every time, dump out my painting water at the end of the day and trim or water my plants when he is asleep or otherwise engaged. The slapping Mike thing though . . . well, thats just plain funny.

Upcoming Posts
I have spent much of today, elbow deep in art fair applications. Not a task I enjoy. I am waiting on the UPS man, to bring me a fresh batch of slides for the half dozen or so apps, (which are not yet taking digital submissions) that I need to get out in the next week. (Yes, I did put them off to the last minute again this year. But hey, I was painting!)

I have finished my portrait of Catch and will post a pic of it completed, after Carol has received her painting. Plans are already underway for the next horse painting. I will get some WIP’s up just as soon as I begin.

Also, I have plans on discussing a couple of ways to frame oil pastel paintings, (since it has some special requirements) sometime in the next 10 days.

Warmer Weather
I just returned from a lovely walk. At 5pm it was still 45 degrees. Ah! This kind of weather fills a girls head with visions of Spring. The snow is melting and the birdies are singing. Chicory is dozing in the sun and the barn kitties are frolicking. (Umm. . .well, not quite frolicking exactly. More like, establishing a dominance hierarchy for the upcoming breeding season. But that just doesn’t have an idyllic ring to it.)

Anywho, totally gorgeous outside and the forecast is for warmer weather still. Wahoo!

Reality TV
Now I am not talking about those shows where they put a dozen hormonally pumped, morally challenged young people in a house, and wait to see what mayhem ensues. (If I was into that sorta thing, I would just watch the barn cats frolick.)

What I am talking about is, creative challenge type shows like Bravo’s Project Runway. (Love this show, every single season of it.) Unfortunately this season came to an end last week. The good news . . . Bravo is replacing it with Top Chef. (again, Love it!) Considering I am not much into cooking, I do seem to like the cooking shows. Top Chef, The Last Restaurant Standing, Iron Chef and as already discussed, anything with Gordon Ramsey. (particularly Kitchen Nightmares and The F Word)

Luxury and Features

I finally got myself a new drafting chair. Isn’t it lovely. (insert angelic chorus here) The one I had, was one that came with my drafting table. And being as aged as it was, it had seen better days. It was covered in miscellaneous stains and oil pastel smears. As well as the seat and backrest where snagged and chewed on, by not one but two teething kittens. Also, the occasional bolt kinda stuck through the wafer thin padding, and poked me bum. (I’ve been watching a little too much Brit TV of late.) But the clincher was when a wheel popped off. (Yeah, that pretty much makes it junk.)

So we went shopping for a new chair. Now while this isn’t say . . the Cadillac of drafting chairs (I passed on the leather). It is still a fine example of comfort and luxury. And in keeping with the car metaphor, my last chair was more like an 80’s pinto. Tough, small, occasionally difficult, and not pretty to look at. It did the job, but it didn’t make you want to pet it when you walked by.

But my new chair, makes me sigh with blissful contentment. I mean really, just look at the fully adjustable thick padded seat and huge supportive backrest. Admire, its opulent size and sturdy construction. Caress, the lovely scotch-guarded fabric with that new chair smell. Oh, and did I mention it comes with features (Oh. . . features) and a 3 year warranty. Not some cheapo warranty either. Complete coverage, short of me hitching up Chicory and using it for buggy rides.

Now if it just had a cup holder, heated shiatsu massage and a motor, I would never leave it.

Budda’s two week “trial” period is over as of today. Mike kinda rolls his eyes at the “trial period ” part. Like, after day one I would ever just toss him out into the cold. He has come through with flying colors, with the exception of one time pottying not in the potty box. Since he is my second cat I am unsure how common this might be. It was early on and it was the first time we spent all afternoon out of the room containing his litter pan. Other than that one time he has been faithful to use his box.

He seems to be a fast learner. He had picked up what “No” meant almost immediately. He doesn’t challenge my authority as much as Oliver did, which is kind of nice. Ollie would do the naughty thing, (say… bite into a shrinkwrapped print) I’d say Ollie NO! He’d stop look at me, then open his mouth and put it over the print in very slow motion, as if to bite. All the while making eye contact with me. I’d say Ollie? And he’d MEOW loudly and stalk off, tail switching in annoyance. I say Budda No! And he just makes a little mew, stares at me wide eyed and innocently and then saunters over for cuddles. That being said, as every day passes he seems to be getting a little more Ollie like.

And now for the amazing Budda!
Last week, I was throwing a mousy toy and he would return to me with it. Now, I am sure to start out with this was just because he is really attached to me and planned to play with it, by me. But I would keep throwing it and he would keep bringing it back. Now 5-10 times might be a fluke but he retrieved it almost 30 times, at that point I got tired of the game. (I tried to take photos to illustrate, but oddly enough they just look like a cat carrying a toy. Somehow the amazing part is lost in the pictures.) Anywho, by the next day he was dropping the mousey in my hand. Such a clever, clever kitty. (See, I told you I’d be bragging about how bright he is.)

Mouse over the image above to compare them.

I am on the whole more pleased with the new composition. The image went from a 17 1/4 x 25 1/2 to a 16 x 30. I always try to work on a board larger than what I think my image will be so that I can choose to change things. This is especially important when I am still working out a composition. I have never really been the type to do thumbnail sketches. I have tried them but it just never gave me enough information to make any real decisions.

The plan for today is to begin to lay in color. I also have to finalize my plans for the tack. I have to say the new kitten has been a boost for my state of mind, but not so much for my productivity. He keeps me on my toes and yes it’s worth it.

This is day 3 of having my little kitten at the gallery. He is slowly adjusting to the lack of siblings. I broke out my camera to take a few snaps this afternoon as he was thinking about napping.

Budda shares the same lineage as Oliver. (Notice the family resemblance?) Budda’s grandmother was Ollie’s mom. They do look quite a bit alike. I really wanted a cat that was considerably different looking than Ollie but as you may have noticed from the hellcats photos, my color choices were somewhat limited. Turns out, it doesn’t matter. When I look at Budda, I think of Budda … not Ollie.

I am smiling again. I discovered, kittens are a huge mood lifter. (who knew?) I think next time I get cranky or tired I will just prescribe more kittens, continue to add as needed. (Kidding, just kidding. One is plenty)
Thats about it. I’m sure I’ll be shoving kittens photos into this blog quite often. You will be so sick of looking at Budda’s kitten pictures. But hey, I am a proud new mommy. Just wait. Pretty soon I’ll start bragging about how smart he is, especially compared to other peoples kittens.

It was gorgeous today. The temps reached over 40 and the winds were calm. Unbelievable for January. (brings to mind the global warming thing though.) Since it is Sunday, it is kind of a lazy day. I did go for a long walk. (just lovely) Then came in to the gallery to begin a new work.

I started drawing the new painting that I have been wanting to do for some time. I will talk more about it when I post a picture of it later. (I know, I know. I promised to post the flamingo and then trashed it before ever getting it onto the blog. But this time I promise I will post a photo no matter what. Cross my heart.)

The other new beginning is, I brought in one of my little hellcats to the gallery. It was just too empty without something small and furry running around. (My husband doesn’t count since he’s big and furry) I chose the most laid back of the group. Meaning the only one who doesn’t bite or scratch excessively. Also he’s a cuddler. (big time) He is still on a trial basis, but I think he will do fine. He is a little stressed being the only cat here, since he has had his 3 siblings and mom for company his total known existence. But I think he’ll adjust. So far we have been playing a lot of Marco Polo. All he has to do is face away from me and he thinks he is all alone and starts the yowling his head off.

His name is Little Budda. (I left the H out so hopefully I won’t confuse those googling for enlightenment.) I started calling him this quite awhile ago because he has a tendency to stand up on his hind feet then just plunk down in the sitting position while still being upright. And so his little round tummy sticks out like a buddha belly. I may change the name once I’m sure he is staying. But I do kinda like it.

Thanks to all those who sent me sympathy notes over Oliver. It has all really meant so much to me.

I have a sign hanging by my drafting table with the statement: Man Plans, God Laughs. I made it shortly after we moved to Iowa because we had big plans for our new life. And shortly after we moved here, we both had some serious health issues. I got a lung infection from stripping wallpaper out of an almost 100 year old farm house. (breathed in black mold) And just as soon as I was well enough to be able to walk 15 feet without falling short of breath. Mike got badly burned along one side, his arm and neck. Truly made me question what we were doing here.

It has been a long time since I took Psych 101. So I don’t correctly remember all the stages of grieving. But currently I am at the Anger stage. Or is it Blame. Lets just call it Blame/Anger shall we, or BA. (also appropriate acronym for Bad Attitude.) And who do I blame . . . God. Yep. That’s right. The big Kahuna himself.

Perhaps, he has struck me down for my hubris of a week ago. When my art group was over, I was talking about how I would like another dog but certainly wouldn’t get one as long as I had Oliver. As it would upset him far too much. And so I said And I expect to have him for at least another 10 years. Those were the words that did it.

In truth, I believe in an all loving God. However, I grew up with a Lutheran background. Where the eternal hellfire of a vengeful God was the usual Sunday staple. And so, when bad things happen I kinda fall back to that. My BA is already going away. I imagine I am on my way to the Acceptance stage. Before you know it, I will be talking about how grateful I am for the 4 years together that we did have. And had I not plucked him out of that ditch, one cold winter morning, his life would have been so much shorter. I will carry on and continue painting in the space that we shared. And life will slowly resume to normal.

Hey, wait a minute . . . do I hear laughing?

Okay, so they don’t look it. But trust me they are. I took this photo the day Oliver died. (That is of course before I knew) I had planned to blog about them that day but lost all heart for anything once I found Ollie.

So here they are today (3 of 4 in the photo). They are looking up at me because no way, no how was I getting down to eye level to photograph them. These are the late (born in November late) litter of barn cats that we moved into the porch because they never would have made it outside.

Now don’t let the big eyes and sweet expressions fool you. Thats how they lure you in, yes siree. That and the fact they make these adorable little cooing noises every time they see someone. They are held in half of the porch by a 4 foot piece of tin. So they sit there and coo and look at me with slow blinking eyes. And I think okay just for a little while. I ease myself into the enclosure and sit down on the bench. They tumble around me like little drunks and almost immediately one climbs up into my lap and commences purring loudly. So I know what you’re thinking right now, Umm Mona…what is all this about hellcats? Well let me tell ya.

After approximately 43.6 seconds they transform. One will be chewing on my shoe and one will be dangling from my sweater. Yet another is on top of my head trying to pull out my hair while simultaneously giving me a deep acupuncture treatment. Now the one on my lap at this point usually begins to do one of two things. Either it will be chewing on my hand while I flail feverishly about with my other, trying to nab the one off my head. Or it may have just decided to sharpen it’s claws on my knee. As quickly as I remove one kitten from my tender flesh another is digging in and biting my butt. Seriously. I can only handle them long enough to clean their litter and feed them. Their mother Little Grey has the freedom to come and go from the enclosure as she chooses. (And, she chooses to do so often)

So after all my sad talk of losing Oliver I thought I’d show you some new and bright little spirits in the world. I seriously thought of adopting one in as the new gallery cat but none are really the right personality for me. Besides, it’s not like they could replace Oliver. If you lose a friend, running out and finding another doesn’t stop the pain of the loss. Still . . . a pair (or is it 2 pair) of tiny kitten feet is awfully tempting. Tomorrow I will be at the gallery for at least 6 hours. A long time to go it alone.

So today I went in to the gallery for a total of 3 hours. Cried only twice. Came close more times than I could count. The rooms are full of him. I move something to find a toy. I roll up some thing and think of how he would have grabbed it. I sat at the computer and thought I heard him meow in the other room a couple of times. Occasionally I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

He had this thing where he would walk up to me while I was on the computer. Stand up and ever so gently put his paw on my arm, then push lightly. Of course I would look at him and then he would meow in a drawn out sort of way, wanting me to push back some from the keyboard so he could climb up on my lap. I thought this happened once today (the gentle push thing) and it actually startled me.

The thing is, he was always with me. When on the computer he sat on the back of the chair and rested against me purring. When working on a painting he would sit on my lap. When doing picture framing he was either under the table or sitting on a chair watching me or napping. He was very vocal and I would talk to him as I would a person and he would meow back and give me kitty winks. (For those who don’t know it is an expression of love. He makes eye contact, then slowly closes his eyes and opens them again. A very (very) slow blink.)

The place is just so empty and hollow without him.