Cats in the Studio
I admit it, I’m a cat person. Dogs are nice. I’ve had big outdoor farm dogs that were just lovely, but cats just fit my personality. They don’t jump all over you and slobber. You don’t have to take them for walks and you can go on vacation once in a while and they don’t mind too much. Cats have been a part of my life since childhood. I grew up on a small farm in Central Ohio and cats were plentiful. I wrapped them in blankets, dressed them in doll clothes, pushed them around in my baby buggy and secreted them in my room at night. They were baptized in the cattle trough (not the full immersion, just a few sprinkles in between the ears) and given names like Uncle Cinder. My Dad professed to hate cats. They were always sitting on the back step and he tripped over them every day. He would make statements like, ” I’m going to toss that thing over the barn the next time I trip over it.” He never did, and despite his threats and protestations, he was witnessed on several occasions petting a cat in his lap while he read the evening paper. When observed, he would shove it off his lap and complain, “How’d that thing get in the house?”