April 28, 2009"Come see, they're sharing the fleece."
So went the instant message from two floors above. While it was highly unlikely that all four of the beasts would be parked in one of the many cat beds around the house, I knew just from the fact that she'd sent the message that Sherry meant it was Legs and one of the triplets. It certainly wasn't Betsy, since she outright hates Legs, and she'd been skulking around my office a few moments earlier. Besides, I don't think I've ever seen her in one of the beds.
I grabbed the camera and a flash and headed upstairs to find what I'm calling the second sign of the apocalypse: Legs and Molly in bed together. Granted at opposite ends, and with their faces as far apart as possible, but together. And in the particular bed, in the hallway, that was, for the most part, Legs' personal domain, and which Molly had, in recent days, been sprawled in when he wasn't around. This means Molly had to have let Legs join her, since he's the type to cede easily from reclaiming anything.
This was my favorite of the dozen pictures I took. I'm not that crazy about the color cast and the light, though. The ceiling here, in the upstairs hall by the stairs, is about fifteen feet, and the walls a light mustard. I toned it down as much as I could without losing the white of the cat to the bed. I love the expression on his face and the opposing head tilts. I think it's the tilts that really make the picture.
Oh, and the first sign of the apocalypse would be Legs and Betsy in bed together. I think my lens would crack.
So went the instant message from two floors above. While it was highly unlikely that all four of the beasts would be parked in one of the many cat beds around the house, I knew just from the fact that she'd sent the message that Sherry meant it was Legs and one of the triplets. It certainly wasn't Betsy, since she outright hates Legs, and she'd been skulking around my office a few moments earlier. Besides, I don't think I've ever seen her in one of the beds.
I grabbed the camera and a flash and headed upstairs to find what I'm calling the second sign of the apocalypse: Legs and Molly in bed together. Granted at opposite ends, and with their faces as far apart as possible, but together. And in the particular bed, in the hallway, that was, for the most part, Legs' personal domain, and which Molly had, in recent days, been sprawled in when he wasn't around. This means Molly had to have let Legs join her, since he's the type to cede easily from reclaiming anything.
This was my favorite of the dozen pictures I took. I'm not that crazy about the color cast and the light, though. The ceiling here, in the upstairs hall by the stairs, is about fifteen feet, and the walls a light mustard. I toned it down as much as I could without losing the white of the cat to the bed. I love the expression on his face and the opposing head tilts. I think it's the tilts that really make the picture.
Oh, and the first sign of the apocalypse would be Legs and Betsy in bed together. I think my lens would crack.
3 comments:
Better make sure you have an extra lens. Sometimes it takes years and sometimes they conspire to not let you know that they are capable of coexistance (since they love drama) but then one day you come into a room and find all of 'em on the bed. We got there with our original 6 after about 5 or 6 years had gone by; luckily I got a picture. Even now, Nikki and Lucy will sleep butt-to-butt on the bed at times, even though they profess undying hatred the rest of the time.
Legs really knows how to play to the camera. What an expression of innocence! I mean, compared to "basement cat" behind him.
Fats insists that Legs is ordinary looking and I think he has the sweetest face of any cat I've ever had. He's also the only lap cat I've ever had, and that includes Benny. (She never sat in *my* lap.)
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