Jan 4, 2011

Maia Louise

Maia was being a fairly good girl for a change, sitting quietly in her bed, transfixed by a fly that was buzzing around on the light fixture on the ceiling above her head. (I'm not sure how a fly managed to stay alive in the frigid winter temperatures we're currently having, but power to it for making it this far into the season). When I saw how sweet she looked while not tearing up a pillow she isn't supposed to be on while sharpening her claws, rabbit kicking a magazine to shreds with her back feet, venomously swatting at shiny chihuahua eyes, or sundry other rotten cat behaviors she enjoys indulging in, I ran for my camera. Her giving me the cold stare in one of the photos aside, followed rapidly by her realizing that the fly was now a mere inches from her bum in the other photo, she posed rather nicely. For a cat.

Having now managed to get the rare couple of photos of her not in a blurry swirl of whiskers and fur, and given doctor's orders to rest through a nasty virus I'm now suffering from, I plan on sitting quietly for the next few days, wrapped all snuggly in a blanket with the boys, and sketching her up from these pictures, a rare treat from the usual dog portraits.

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