The Year of the Cat

 

Well, it almost took a year. It was a hot Summer day, I believe, when S, my client (not sure if she’s want her name used here so I’ll just stick to a one letter initial) called me and requested I pick up her recently departed best feline friend.   Someday when I have more articulate thoughts running through my mind I’ll delve into all the emotional trappings of pet taxidermy, but for now I’ll keep it brief.  It’s awkward and sad, picking up the deceased member of a family.  I feel clumsy and don’t know what to do with my hands.  I feel guilty if I find something funny.  It’s a kind of turmoil, and the only thing that helps me through it is admitting that I feel awkward and weird and moving on from there.  I feel like I’m connecting with people whom I’ve barely known on a level so deep and raw that it’s like hitting a nerve out of nowhere.

But I do know S.  I’ve been getting to know her. She’s a delightfully sensitive and wonderful being, with what I suspect is a morbid sense of humor but I haven’t seen it quite yet.

Anyway, meet her cat:

Poor baby was sick for a while and had received some kind of shot or treatment, hence the shaved arms.  Aside from that she was a beautiful specimen.  It took me forever to get the form down; it was basically hand sculpted over the entire period of time.  I refrained from too much embellishment as I knew S might want to add her own personal touches.  For no particular reason I incorporated a crystal ball for her to lean on, as though she were showing S the future from the other side.

 

I want to hear purring when I look at this photo.  Lets not ever forget how magical cats are.

I figured a pillow would be a suitable base, as she is a regal creature.  And I guess that’s it.  I’m tired and need to be on a plane in a few hours.  More on this shortly, when I have my wits about me.

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