A Cat’s View from the Easel

I decided early on to let my cat, Princess Gracie, narrate the Gnomeward Bound books.
At first it was a whim — she already had that air of knowing everything while saying nothing.
But it quickly became clear she had the better perspective.
Cats see the world without ego, without approval ratings, without the need to “finish” a thought.
They simply observe, and in doing so, they reveal.

Today, International Artist Day (October 25) felt like a good day to let her speak again — because if there’s one creature who understands the fine line between art, attitude, and absurdity, it’s her.

So here’s Gracie — unfiltered, unbothered, and entirely unimpressed by art that takes itself too seriously.

---

🐾 Princess Gracie Speaks:

Humans are funny about art.
They spend entire lives arguing over what counts — as if imagination required a permit.

Take my human, for example. Long ago, someone told her she lacked imagination.
Imagine saying that to a being who would later invent an entire planet, populate it with gem-shaped continents, and still remember to feed me on schedule.
If that’s a lack of imagination, I’d hate to see “too much.”

I’ve been her editor for years. I watch from the desk, tail wrapped neatly, while she mutters at her screen — tapping, deleting, rewriting, doubting.
From where I sit, every sigh is a brushstroke.
Every pause is a paragraph.
She doesn’t realize it, but she creates in layers, just like fur — short ideas, long tangents, soft underthoughts.

She once told me about her old art classes.
Apparently, the teacher would hand them a subject — “Draw a tree,” “Paint a bird” — and then vanish into the hallway.
No instruction, no guidance. Just judgment at the end.
Some students bloomed; others wilted.
She learned to envy the naturals — the ones whose birds had lift and whose trees had shade.
I, however, prefer bark scratches and real feathers.
Maybe that’s why I trust process over polish.

If I’ve learned anything from living with a writer, it’s this:
Art isn’t in the outcome. It’s in the nerve to keep going when you’re not sure what it is yet.
The ones who only chase praise rarely find expression; they find exhaustion.

My human has seen plenty of art that’s technically perfect but emotionally vacant — and plenty that’s heartfelt but half-baked.
The truth, I think, lives in between:
where precision meets play,
where technique bows just enough to wonder.

Humans like to separate things — writing over here, painting over there, music somewhere else.
Cats don’t.
To us, the purr of a refrigerator can be a symphony if you’re listening right.
Maybe that’s what makes an artist: not the medium but the attention.

So on this International Artist Day, I raise a paw to the ones who keep showing up — messy, curious, half-certain, full of heart.
To the humans who scribble, sculpt, and sing despite the noise in their heads.
And to my own, who finally stopped chasing permission and started creating worlds instead.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pencil to knock off the table.
Inspiration demands movement.

— Princess Gracie, Resident Muse and Occasional Editor 🐾