I’m still at it, painting portraits of my kitties. This week it has been Chaplin, the mama of the pair. She’s my muse with those emerald eyes that stare mysteriously into the inner and outer distance. Chaplin is just pure love, all about affection, both getting it and giving it. If she could spend her day plastered to my face, she would, endlessly washing my cheeks and chin.
And I would have no skin left.
She’s in one of her favorite haunts here, on her sheepskin bed in my studio. Today, both she and Dove are luxuriating in the early Spring breezes coming in the open windows. That’s a real treat after the winter cold.
Maybe she’s looking forward to Spring. I know I am.