Taking pictures of my cats is fun. And by “fun” I mean “a frustrating, hellish ordeal that would be fun if only my frigging cats would cooperate for ten frakking seconds, I mean Jeebus Farging Cripes, is that really asking so flipping much?!?” (Note skillful and subtle use of Lenten euphemisms.)
Tiffy is a particularly difficult subject, since it is a given that the moment she realizes my lens is trained on her, she will suddenly realize that The Most Fascinating Thing Ever has suddenly and magically appeared far, far across the room at a precise 90º angle AWAY from the camera. Thus I tend to get a lot of pictures of Tiffy that look like this:
Of course, the solution to this is to yell “Woo-hoo, Widdle Tiffums! Wook at Daddee! Wooky-wooky!” in a shrill, fishwife-like voice while holding up one hand and wiggling the fingers while hoping that my other hand can manage to hold the camera still enough to snap a non-blurry picture, should my humiliating antics be sufficient to tear Tiffy’s attention away from the manifestation of the Virgin Mary juggling a chainsaw, bowling ball, and flaming Tiki torch or whatever the heck is so blasted interesting over there in the opposite direction I want my cat to be looking.
If I am lucky, the result is a picture like this:
While cute, Tiffy’s expression still has a vaguely “What the HELL?” quality to it — one familiar from many baby pictures I’ve seen, where you know the photographer must have been yelling “Woo-hoo, Widdle Baby! Wook at Mr. Professional Baby-Photographer! Wooky-wooky!” while waving a rattle off camera. Oh well, at least I’m not alone in my humiliation.