A Small Question About Strange Cats

Lately, I’ve been paying attention to the quiet little rituals cats create for themselves — the habits that don’t follow logic yet feel deeply intentional.

One of my cats has decided that my water cup is the only acceptable source of hydration. Not the bowl. Not the fountain. My cup. Every single time. No explanation. No hesitation. Just a firm belief that this is how things are meant to be.

It’s these oddly specific routines that keep finding their way into my work. They feel familiar in a way that’s hard to explain — like tiny reminders that comfort doesn’t need permission and meaning doesn’t need to make sense.

Cats don’t justify their habits. They don’t explain themselves. They simply notice what feels right and return to it again and again.

If you live with a cat, you’ve probably seen this too — a ritual that looks strange from the outside but feels perfectly normal once you accept it. The sink sleeping. The chair claiming. The precise spot on the floor that somehow matters more than all the others.

I’ve been collecting these moments quietly, letting them inform my paintings and my thinking. Not to document them exactly — but to capture the feeling they leave behind.

Sometimes art begins with observation.
Sometimes inspiration is as simple as noticing what keeps repeating.

And sometimes, it’s just a cat drinking from the wrong cup — reminding you to loosen your grip on how things are “supposed” to work.