Somewhere I read that if you want to be taken seriously as a photographer you should never post a photograph of cats, flowers, or butterflies. And ever since I have steadfastly stood by that rule.
They say today, October 29th, is National Cat day. Now, I want to be sure you understand this is not something I celebrate, much less memorialize on my photo blog, but given the fact I had nothing else really to post on my blog today I figured I would dig up some photos of my cat–who is named Steve–and violate that aforementioned sacred rule.
I don’t make a habit of photographing Steve. Though I probably should. The few photos I do have of Steve were typically made because I was testing a new lens or fiddling with settings on my camera.
No, I’m not much of a cat person. I even had to be talked into adopting this one. Cats are arrogant, selfish, and a pain in the ass to clean up after. They shed hair something horrible. They get in the way when you’re trying to work. They lick their butts entirely too much. And they never waste an opportunity to complain. Simply put, cats remind me of my ex-wife.
Except the butt part.
But after 12 years with this one (his birthday was earlier this month), I guess I can say Steve has grown on me. He is, after all, the one sentient being that has spent more time with me at my side in the past six years than any other.
Steve, like the rest of us, isn’t as spry as he used to be. He is growing older and can see age creeping up on him more and more. He sleeps much more than he used to sleep. He has a case of arthritis in his hip bones, which means he sometimes needs help getting up onto and off of things. He has a severe case of separation anxiety. And he doesn’t much like hitting the road and joining me on journeys across the state making photos of Montana. Sometimes it doesn’t seem fair he will live only 1/8th of a human’s life, but I suppose that makes me appreciate him more while he’s here.
Even if he is a cat.