Studio, Thursday.

On my desk today, cats and owls.

Yesterday I took Pixie to the vet. She is the star of my book, I am Cat, that I am working on. Her face will be on the cover. She told me what to write and the cat curl dreaming is ammonite Pixie. But, she has been ill off and on for a few years now. She has colds that she can't shake and no amount of anti-biotics seems to shift it. For a while I stopped treating her, but yesterday took her again to the vets. Such a sorry state she was in, it did not seem fair. And she is such a dear and beautiful small creature.

By the time I got to the vets she was not only crusted with snot but had been sick in the cat basket. She hates cars. Moira was unsure what we could do next but decided to just throw everything at her.Nothing to loose. Pixie couldn't go on like this. 

So, I came home with the prospect of having to work on a book built around the memory of yet another dear, beautiful dead cat.

At this moment though Pixie is in my studio, curled on my knee. I have not heard her sneeze once today yet. She does not smell. She is not completely clear with her breathing, but so much better.

And I have hope.

I want I am Cat to be a celebration of her, and her brother, Maurice ( I miss him so much it hurts) and not a memorial to them.