Love Those Little Kitties...

Me, with one of our many farm cats, about 1953

I've always been cat lady, even when I was a little cat girl. This is me, holding one of the farm cats. There are lots of similar pictures in my photo album. Of course on a farm, cats work. They kill rodents that would overrun a farm without them. I shudder to remember how in 1966 my dad gave away all but one or two of our cats when he sold the dairy herd. Within a year he had to hire an exterminator to rid the outbuildings of rats, who fed on leftover corn and oats. My mother didn't approve of house cats those days, though when she and dad moved off the farm they did have one or two. Luckily for me I married a man who also loves cats. During our married lives we've had three, first Buster, then Sophie, now Bucky. When Sophie reached the end of her nine lives a year and a half ago (she was eighteen), we lived cat-less for a few weeks. The house was fur-free, and we traveled without preparation or guilt, but we were sad. Only a trip to the Humane Society cured the melancholy the settled on our house.

Bucky, our plush well-upholstered tuxedo cat, has been on my mind lately, also my lap, and on the bed. Now that we've had the first cat-tracking snow she knows the warmest places in the house are (1) on a lap, (2) in the bed, (3) in a patch of sun on the carpet, or (4) near a heat register. Our morning routine involves a trip to the Meow Mix bowl and then a long lap session we drink coffee and read the newspaper. At the end of the day she joins me in bed, purring happily on my stomach while I read a chapter or two before switching off the light.  She's a good kitty, loving and affectionate, and she stays off the counters (so far as I know). I want to sketch her, nothing formal or fancy. Maybe something that pays homage to my favorite cat cartoonists, Nicole Hollander who draws the Sylvia strip, Kliban (Love them little mousies, mousies what I loves to eat, bite they little heads off, nibble on they tiny feet), and Edward Gorey with his Victorian cats who lounge languidly on stacks of books, or skate on frozen ponds with knitted caps and sweaters. If anything I draw resembles these more famous pussy cats, it wouldn't  surprise me in the least.  I wonder if I could design a Christmas card...