Transcendent Feline, encaustic, 6" x 6" (SOLD)
"You could be killing Ghandi," I tell him, but my cat pays no mind to my reincarnation musings as he stalks the fly, his flanks up in the air, his tail twitching. He waits for Ghandi to take a rest on the windowsill. Even from my distance, I can see Ghandi's tiny insect body pulsing with exasperated breath. It has been a 15 minute hunt already. I have tried to release Ghandi from the house, to corral him, guide him like an air traffic controller, but he doesn’t understand my human sign language. My cat continues to stalk him, determined and hot, and then pounces, his eyes wide like green pilot lights. With one swat of his paw, he knocks Ghandi down and then I hear a brief buzz and several crunches. My cat is pleased, satiated. He licks his teeth. The hunt is over and it's nap time. He circles the chair cushion and forms a little ball, resting his head on his tail. I watch him begin to sleep, watch his breaths become slow and full and peaceful, all evidence of the kill now gone. I close my eyes and imagine poor Ghandi traveling through this sleeping beast, leaving this world in the belly of my cat.