It’s not usually a term I use, as it suggests that my cat is a child substitute. (He is not, as I want a cat, but very much do not want children. There are other distinctions, but that’s the only relevant one.)

However, Christmas has made the occasional cat/baby similarity hard to ignore. A friend’s blog about having a baby has had shown some eerie parallels to my life lately. Christina and I both spent the morning playing with our little friends in seas of wrapping paper. We both enjoy pestering our little friends until they make funny noises or faces, and then sometimes we take pictures of them. There’s that sense of seeing the world in a new way because of the way some other, smaller, less developed creature reacts to things.

This morning (aka 1-4 pm), boyfriend and I did Christmas at home with le chat; this evening was spent at a friend’s house, watching his pissed off, territorial cat interact with an invading Boston terrier in a red hoodie. Both of these things made me want to try drawing them. (White cat is mine; black cat is the friend’s.) I usually (um, obsessively) draw people; I should draw animals more often, because it’s fun. Secondary benefit: if I make the cat’s nose or ears too big, I’m not going to hear about it.

I’m working on a cat zine, and the preoccupation is clearly rearing its furry head.

*Edited December 26th to add a link to Christina’s blog, once I got her ok about referring people to a site about her kidlet.

After a relatively active few days (seeing John Oliver at Snoqualmie, going to Brian Despain’s show opening), I had a thoroughly vegging Sunday.  See if you can guess why that might be, based on a sample of tonight’s sketchbook work.

My imagery is deeply opaque.  That is all.