Majestic Old Kitty
I thought this was a cute shot of Han lounging in the giant cat bed I brought with me when I moved here. He’s a sweet boy, and the oldest of the bunch.
…Time for this week’s story…
Artatouille
A clan of mice made their home in the attic of a human house. They ate through the boxes and avoided running on the floor. After burrowing through the walls, they were able to gather food more easily. Hunting and gathering outside made them susceptible to predators, but within these walls they were safe. The humans were messy and inattentive, and most importantly, when the mouse clan settled there they found what would define them. In one of the attic boxes they found paints and brushes.
Some of the settlers are now revered masters, and their offspring carried on their teachings. The mice leaned back on their hind legs and waved their brushes to and fro. One intrepid mouse used his hands to paint his cardboard canvas and started a new movement. The traditionalists frowned upon it, but it developed even further. Another mouse used its whole body, thrusting itself onto the canvas, rolling and smearing its body to create masterpieces.
When the rebel art movement struck, nobody was ready. They made art in places where nobody had made art before. Some experimented with their tools and others with the meaning of art itself, challenging everything that came before. One rebel artist ate his brushes and threw them up on the canvas, then mixed it with paint. A very emotional mouse used its own blood in a painting to contrast the morbid reality of the world outside against the posh, comfortable world they lived in. That mouse later renounced society and left the attic, never to be seen again.
His art inspired other mice to also venture out into the wilderness and live the way their ancestors did. Some enjoyed the rugged life and would check in with the attic once in a while. For others, it became an activity to venture outside and see the world. Mice began to travel and see the world up close and they returned with a greater appreciation for their home.
A family trip into the wilderness inspired a young mouse to paint a body of water to bring a little bit of the outside into their home. It took the mouse world by storm. Mice from all over the attic journeyed to the puddle of blue paint the artist called simply, “Water.” Never before had an artist created such an experience with a painting. Every mouse that arrived was swept away by the fantasy.
It was a beautiful day, mice went about their lives peacefully, when everything changed. The mice were reminded that they lived in a cavern above a massive cave system inhabited by giants called humans. One of the giants poked its head into their world. It looked at several of the citizens and then descended back into its world. Two of those upon whom the giant cast its gaze were artists, and they interpreted the experience very differently.
One saw that the giant had looked upon it with love and compassion. It had built this space for the mice to live in, so they could have a shelter from the dangerous world outside. His painting of the experience was called “Savior From Below.”
The other mouse saw hatred and anger in the giant’s eyes. The doom-saying artist titled her painting, “The Eyes of Wrath.” She believed they had trespassed by living there and the giants had enough. Both artists quickly developed passionate followings, and movements formed around them. One praised the giants, while the other preached that the end was near. Those who thought the end was coming painted near where the giant had poked its head in, hoping they would see it and recognize the value and beauty of art. Surely, an intelligent being would recognize art when they saw it.
Fights would erupt over the conflicting ideologies and society was in upheaval. The more they fought, the more entrenched each side became in their beliefs. The artist who saw doom coming their way gathered her followers and led a pilgrimage out of the attic. With most of them gone, the tension dissipated, and life more or less returned to normal. There was more zealotry, with those who believed the giants to be saviors feeling like they had won. Art became very religious for a while.
They were vindicated when the human returned. It was so massive that even the most loyal believers fled in fear. The giant’s steps shook the ground beneath them, and after walking around the attic, the human descended back into their world. What the mice found when they came out of hiding, however, was proof that they were in fact saviors. The giants had brought food and laid it around the attic for everyone to feast. The mice shared the food and sang the praises of the giants.
Many artists made paintings that night, giving thanks to the giants. The next day, however, most did not wake up. Those who did were weak and sick. One mouse died with a paintbrush in his hand, painting a tribute to the giants. It was not long before they were all dead. Someone came in from the wilderness and bore witness to the death toll. He returned to tell others in the wild. Word spread that their clan of painting mice was gone.
They left their many masterpieces behind to live on forever. The humans, however, did not appreciate their art. The great paintings that once decorated the attic were swept away, and the world moved on as if they had never existed.