So Zoe says to me “What you lookin’ at?”
My cat, Zoe, died at age ten a few years ago . She was resolutely inscrutable, happy to spend her days and nights under our bed, with the occasional break to get her hair brushed. She chose the people who’d she would let enter her world very carefully, and very few were lucky enough. It’s not that she’d attack anyone she didn’t like, but rather that she’d ignore everyone she didn’t know. If we had guests over, while our other cats would come right out to say hi, Zoe might wait till just as the guests were leaving to come out and say goodbye.
Zoe | Stephen Springer Davis | 2012
That’s just the way she rolled, and I wanted to memorialize her in a painting.
This entry was posted on Thursday, January 19th, 2012 at 12:15 pm and is filed under Current work. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.