Context: It has been raining for days. But no wet peets or cold, soggy fur here! Hero, Missile, and Nutmeg are standing comfortably under the barn overhang, also enjoying domestication.
[ID: Photo of two large, plush, ridiculously comfortable-looking tabby cats cuddled up on a mirrored bureau. Text above reads "There are many benefits," text below reads "to being a domesticated animal."]
Lazy day, getting rested up to do some pouncing later. zzzzzz
Happy birthday (this month) to three good beasts:
Rocky!
How it started / how it's going
My boy is ten this May. Ten. I just can't. When the vet handed him to me in 2014 he barely covered my palm. He is such a majestic beafte.
Chance (on the right):
Adopted at age 1 from the pound (what?!). He was perfect at walking on a leash and recall when we got him - can't imagine who'd train him so nicely and then - abandon him? Brightened old dog Lucy's life right up. She seemed to de-age as soon as we got him. He is now 14.
Lady:
Adopted from a (very weird) rescue at 6 months, she is reputedly from Tennessee and half German Shepherd / half ?? Turning 9 this year.
@price1972 I dug up my little description of my creative process for this plein air piece. I hate to admit it, but this is 100% accurate.
1) Feel crappy. Pack up paints and drag ass out into the woods anyway
2) Find spot, begin carefully unpacking paints, brushes, thinner, etc
3) Stop to pet old dog.
4) Try to shove old dog at least 3 inches away from body, so unpacking can continue
5) Mrow???
6) {Sigh} Here kitty, I didn’t mean to leave you behind (yes, I did)
7) Cat presses in between dog and painter’s body
8) Pause to pet dog and cat, balancing painting materials very carefully on lap
9) Shove dog and cat away
10) Try to squeeze out paint on palette
11) (young dog) HERE I AM! DID YOU MISS ME! PET ME!
12) Young dog tries to squeeze between old dog and painter’s body.
13) Brisk dogfight ensues
14) Painter holds tight to painting materials until fight subsides
15) Sets brushes off to left side, away from dogs
16) Removes cat from brushes
17) Sternly removes cat from brushes
18) Pauses to brush leaf debris from canvas, work space, and brushes
19) Frantic tail-wagging flings more leaf debris and one small tick, which crawls menacingly across canvas
20) Stops to squish disease-ridden tick
21) Finally manages to get paint on palette
22) “Your hat is in my way, I’m going to remove it so I can purr directly in your ear"
23) Removes cat patiently and gently from shoulder
It took a while to get started, but once I did I painted with absolutely no skill whatsoever. Interruptions were continual. The final result (approximately 1/3rd of a small canvas,) bears no resemblance whatsoever to my prior work or any work I ever hope to complete in the future. A graceless rendering of a small forest stream whose painter had repeatedly been interrupted BY STINKING DOGS AND CATS.
(although further work did improve it, and my first impression may have been colored by frustration)
Spring 2010
[ID: A photo of a small girl in a sunflower-print dress kneeling by a large orange tabby cat. They are both holding daisies. A photo of the same girl standing in grasses and wildflowers up to her shoulders, looking straight at the camera. A photo of the wildflower patch with a black cat sitting peacefully. She is looking at the camera with golden eyes.]
MY strawberries are blooming, which makes me think back to this photo from when I was doing a major "update" of the beds. I hope we have BUCKETS of them this year. This was 2019. The next year we were into the pandemic, and nothing has ever felt the same.
I had supervision and help. Of course. Always.
[ID: A woman in tank top and shorts, kneeling by raised beds of strawberries. There are several trays of new plants to be planted, and everything looks springlike and green. The second photo is a folded piece of black landscape fabric. Two large white paws and a tabby tail sticking out of the folds are a cue that there is a concealed cat.]
I have solved all my "cat storage" problems! High ceilings have so many benefits.
Yes, I've been going through it. This is my new life goal, right here.
Cat storage:
The cat shelves might have been more of a hit if I had tried to forbid the cats from using them instead of encouraging them. However, they do get used.
Meadow, unfortunately, can't be arsed to jump up there by herself. However, she loved the texture of the carpet when I put her up there, and had a fun little time killing a toy. She does love . . the high ground.
I've wanted cat shelves/architceture for a while, now, all the more because I have very high ceilings, 9ft/2.74 meters.
I got white shelf brackets, and my husband planed a wide board I found in the barn. It turned out to be sassafras wood, which smelled amazing when we ran it through the planer. I don't have to find studs in the wall, oddly, because the whole interior of the house was 'clad' in inch-thick boards over the studs before the drywall was put up. Obviously, I'll use a stud if I can find one, but for my purposes the boards will be enough.
It took two tries with drilling the pilot holes into the wall; my first attempt yielded holes that were just the tiniest bit too narrow for my screws. Second attempt worked. I set the shelves in place and marked underneath where I needed to drill the pilot holes (very shallow! Not al the way through) for those screws. The boards need a little sanding on the edges and a coat of polyurethane on the bottom, then we can attach them. The sassafras ought to be a pretty good match to the oak woodwork we have in the rest of the room.
"For me?" Marilla wonders. Well, as a matter of fact, yes. For you. to SHARE with the other cats.
This isn't completed, but it is at a point where cats cat use it.
Baxter regarded them with an astonishing lack of curiosity and hopped right down. I'm assuming he will change his mind. Marilla approved completely and had a small nap on the first shelf, enjoying looking over the edge at the peasants below. So far no one has attempted the higher shelf.
I still need to get the chop saw out and cut a hickory pole to length; it will extend from floor to ceiling and tie the two shelves together a bit. I brought several saplings down from the mountain in the fall when I was clearing one of the trails, they are debarked but very natural; not perfectly straight but pretty in their own way. The varnish under the shelf will need to wait for warmer weather, so I put the screws underneath the shelf in not-quite-all-the-way and they'll be easy to take down and work on later.
I've wanted cat shelves/architceture for a while, now, all the more because I have very high ceilings, 9ft/2.74 meters.
I got white shelf brackets, and my husband planed a wide board I found in the barn. It turned out to be sassafras wood, which smelled amazing when we ran it through the planer. I don't have to find studs in the wall, oddly, because the whole interior of the house was 'clad' in inch-thick boards over the studs before the drywall was put up. Obviously, I'll use a stud if I can find one, but for my purposes the boards will be enough.
It took two tries with drilling the pilot holes into the wall; my first attempt yielded holes that were just the tiniest bit too narrow for my screws. Second attempt worked. I set the shelves in place and marked underneath where I needed to drill the pilot holes (very shallow! Not al the way through) for those screws. The boards need a little sanding on the edges and a coat of polyurethane on the bottom, then we can attach them. The sassafras ought to be a pretty good match to the oak woodwork we have in the rest of the room.
"For me?" Marilla wonders. Well, as a matter of fact, yes. For you. to SHARE with the other cats.
Sunday I was doing laundry and didn't have enough room on my drying rack for one sheet, so I draped it over my step ladder in the living room. It dried, but before I could fold it and put it away on Monday, Marilla had settled in underneath it and was reveling in having a personal kitty-tent, so I left it there. Tuesday morning, Baxter got in there. When Marilla stalked over to enter Her Domain, it was occupied.
There followed a prolonged battle waged under and through the sheet; paws reaching under, pounces, a retreat, a rout, a great deal of energy expended, and tons of free entertainment for me. Throughout the day Fort Catte changed hands several times. Eventually, though, I folded the sheet.
This morning Baxter was sitting, sadly toying with a stuffed animal in the area where Fort Catte had been.
So. Yeah. I set the ladder back up and tossed a blanket over it.
Alas, the couch throw blanket, whilst delightfully fluffy and heavy, was deemed insufficient in size to provide the requisite cover for a small, spicy ambush predator. I gave in and got the sheet, a heavy, crisp percale, back out.
Marilla, Defender of the Fort. That little blue toy has been through so much this morning.
[ominous camera pan]
Meadow has taken the high ground . . . !
Sunday I was doing laundry and didn't have enough room on my drying rack for one sheet, so I draped it over my step ladder in the living room. It dried, but before I could fold it and put it away on Monday, Marilla had settled in underneath it and was reveling in having a personal kitty-tent, so I left it there. Tuesday morning, Baxter got in there. When Marilla stalked over to enter Her Domain, it was occupied.
There followed a prolonged battle waged under and through the sheet; paws reaching under, pounces, a retreat, a rout, a great deal of energy expended, and tons of free entertainment for me. Throughout the day Fort Catte changed hands several times. Eventually, though, I folded the sheet.
This morning Baxter was sitting, sadly toying with a stuffed animal in the area where Fort Catte had been.
So. Yeah. I set the ladder back up and tossed a blanket over it.
Yesterday, when I could stall no longer, I got out my paints and went to work. The painting has left the exciting- beginning phase and entered the slog-through-the-details phase. This happens nearly every time, and I’m used to it. I’m trying to be brave, and the recent support of new admirers helps. What didn’t help was, when I had three smeary brushes clutched in my hands, I heard the strangled cat-yowl that heralds imminent vomit. I RAN. Too late. Trying to scoop up the cat with my right while holding wet brushes in my left, I panicked the cat, who grabbed the bedding with his claws. This turned the relatively small pile of Li’l Frisky vomit into a full-bed smear. And I dropped the wet brushes. Lost hold of the cat, who fled through the house, continuing to vomit.
I … just can’t talk about it any more. {SOB!}
Sometimes it seems like a minor miracle if I ever finish any painting.
Sometimes I look back and realize - how amazingly consistent my life has been.
The walnut project yielded a quart of brown ink (boil the hulls, strain it with the big strainer, strain it again with the fine strainer. It goes on the paper as a medium brown, so perhaps I should simmer it down to reduce it and make it darker. Right now it looks like I have a quart of the most vile, over-brewed cowboy coffee you'd ever want to see.
I'm not sure ink was even a viable project for me, since I paint in oils. However, I'd been wanting to do it for several years, and perhaps I can use it as a wash under colored pencils or pastels. Sometimes - I just Want to Do a Thing. It cost nothing, so why not?
In other brown&black news, Marilla:
who is extremely spicy™ of temperament, and Meadow, who has the temper of a bowl of unflavored oatmeal, have decided they hate each other. And somehow Meadow is 'winning' whatever war this is? Which leads to Marilla sometimes being found fifteen feet up the poplar tree, looking aggrieved.
