My cats are supermodels. By “supermodels”, I mean that they are difficult to work with, finicky, and mercurial yet beautiful.  They strike poses, complain about the lighting, the food, their accommodations, my choices etc…

They are not super models (note use of superlative this time) because a shot that starts like this…

Calico drama

Calico drama

…generally ends with something like this.

You said closer?

You said closer?

This morning, three of the four parked themselves in a strong sunbeam across the living room floor. Using their innate flair for drama, they knew that being half in and half out of the sunbeam would create a more striking shot. Fortunately, it also let me eliminate most of the living room detritus behind them: some cat toys, a laundry basket, my sewing box, and a coat. Someone should really clean in here.

Sookie gave me the best and longest performance which is unusual for her since she is uneasy about me getting too close to her. God forbid that I should pet her or pick her up. She also created a lovely cat shadow.

Tiger drama

Tiger drama

Now give me content...

Now give me content…

Closer...taking my life into my hands in here

Closer…taking my life into my hands in here

She even changed poses for me. She knows she’s pretty.



Look into my eyes.

She has the most magnificent whiskers.

Miles tried, but was all over the place and couldn’t stop turning his head and trying for sultry over the shoulder looks.

His best, but not great.

His best, but not great.

18 thoughts on ““Supermodels”

  1. I think my moms would relate to this. If there were greater compensation at the end, we cats might be more likely to cooperate. But then that would make us like dogs, which we definitely are not.


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