When the cats take over – and I say this as a cat person with two fat, furry beasts sitting not two feet away from me – we are all SCREWED. I can say this with some certainty, because I have witnessed the dedicated furry fury of one eight pound, 22-year-old domestic long haired with a grudge; can you imagine what they could do if they were organized? Or had thumbs? Or the desire to do anything other than eat, groom and nap for 17 hours a day? So sure, it’s in our best interests as their “masters” – bahahahahahahahahahaha! – to cater to our cats’ every whim, if only to placate them and temporarily delay the upcoming catpocalypse, but when your cat’s whim is to blast sound barrier-shattering merows directly into your eardrum at 4:00 in the morning because there’s breakfast to be had and lazy bones fur parents to be roused from sleep, it gets to be a bit much. Particularly when that cat is old and persistent and not above bellowing hundreds of times in her very loudest outdoor voice for snacks or pets or whatever has her furry bits in a twist this time. I love her, but it’s exhausting. And I mean actually exhausting – she’s awake more than a one-year-old, and her nocturnal misery loves our company, so everybody’s awake.
This manicure depicts the mental turmoil that goes along with being blasted into consciousness by a very loud, very persistent cat – kind of like that loud, persistent cat on my thumb! – in the form of yet another every-nail-for-themselves water marble (seriously, the day I can get all five nails to even remotely look alike, I will declare myself the Goddess of Water Marbling and that will be the end of that.) The ultra vivid neon polishes and loopy, bendy swoops of the water marble are a visual representation of the mental state one finds themselves in in the wee hours of the morning when their beloved, but exceptionally aggravating, cat wants pets and snacks and fresh water, not necessarily in that order, and they want it NOW. In those hours before dawn when you’re awake and moving, but not really, it sometimes feels a bit like everything’s gone flashing neon and bendy around the edges. The singing kitty, of course, represents my cat, Porky, who has been my housemate now for nearly 14 of her 22 years, although thankfully the shrieking at the top of her lungs thing is only something she’s started doing in the last couple of years now that she’s old, old, old and has zero shits left to give. Lucky girl, now she can not give a crap that I’ve immortalized her bad behaviour on my nails!