No More Cats That Look Like Cats

Why am I painting cats?
I don't recognize myself in that. Even though I house sit a lot of cats, and I like those cats, I'm not overall a cat person.
If I were to paint them, I'd imagine myself painting them abstractly--something like the fabulous flat cats of Mary Fedden.
But, no.
I'm painting fur that looks like fur.

Last Sunday I painted Miss Marty. She is, or was, the cat of BJ, a pal who is dying of lung cancer.
It took me for-bloody-ever, but the portrait looks like BJ's cat, which I knew is what she'd want.
(It helped that I'd bought quality gouache (by M. Graham, a small Oregon company). The colors are clear, not chalky like the cheap pan paints I'd been using (and not cheap, either).

BJ is a couple years younger than me. I know her because she lives across the alley from the thrift store. Before she got too sick, she came in almost every day.

I remember when BJ rescued a feral cat during the killing polar vortex from the Arctic three winters ago.
That cat is Miss Marty.

BJ'd wanted to keep the cat till the end of her own life, but after she left a tea kettle to burn dry on the stove, she couldn't trust her body anymore. A couple weeks ago, she found a new home for Marty with a friend who loves the cat.

After Marty left, I offered to paint her portrait, and BJ said she'd like that.

As I was painting this very fluffy cat, it came to me:
THIS is why I've been painting cats:

so I could do a good job on a cat portrait for a dying friend.

You never know (or, anyway, I never seem to know) what the bigger picture of one's actions might be...

When I gave BJ the portrait, I could see her react to it, as if she were holding something living that she loved.

Mission accomplished.
Now maybe I should try painting a cat that looks like a flounder?

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P.S. Oh, yes, in between postings, I also painted The Finnish Friend's cat, Pulla––postcard sized.
I like this little picture a lot, little gray kitty on a pink background.