Cookie and Kelly decidedly do not look at me when I take their photo. I should be feeding them lunch, not fooling around with that thing I put in front of my face which they are so tired of—and at their ages, 17 and 19, they have every right to be very, very tired of me and that thing. Meals have been held for far too many photos.
Plus, I’m acting like an fool, waving my hands and yelling at them as if they don’t know I’m there when they surely do. They are intentionally ignoring me to make the point that photos are not important. Lunch is important. Now.
They should know after all these years that if they just look at me, just once, I’ll stop fooling around and feed them.
They did. I got my photo, they got their lunch. Compromise. It works every time, especially if the light is good.
But aren’t they the very photo of feline tolerance of human foolishness?
Cookie and Kelly have spent the past week in my studio as I’ve been working with seemingly annual infestation of fleas. The girls are allergic to flea bites, Cookie dangerously so at her age; she’s lost a lot of the fur around her neck and actually most of her belly. I can control what comes in contact with them much easier in there, and they’ll be in there for a little longer until I’m sure the house is clear. Kelly doesn’t mind, but Cookie is getting pretty tired of it.
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