in which sometimes a cat is just a cat

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[ Major Tom, a big grey tabby wearing a black harness, lays at his ease on a bed of red pebbles in a variety of sizes. One of his forepaws is tucked up, the other stretched out in front of him. ]

Tom, in a moment of repose. On Mars.

Loiosh, surveying his domain. (Everywhere is his domain.)


[ Loiosh, an orange tabby wearing a green harness, stands at the bottom left of the photo, which is otherwise filled with big evergreens and a selection of rocks. ]

Tom, serving the mlem.


[ Tom’s walking towards the camera at an angle, through low dry grass. I caught him in the act of licking his nose. ]

Loiosh, surveying his — nah he was just having a sniff. Bonus Tom in the background!


[ Loiosh stands just behind a fallen branch, head up, tasting the air. Several feet behind him & to the left, Major Tom mirrors his pose, but he blends into the rocks a LOT more. ]

Tom, a moment of repose.


[ Tom’s sitting, mostly facing away, but his head is turned to the left, making his noble profile visible. ]

Loiosh — look he just thinks he owns everything, is what.


[ Loiosh is standing next to a nice big weathered lichen-covered rock, staring intently to the right. His ears & whiskers are perked forward, & his nose is wrinkled up in a sniff. ]

Tom brings the murder strut.


[ Tom’s walking directly toward the camera, head down, eyes intent, one paw up to take a step, opposite ear cocked to catch a sound. ]

I gotta get the murder strut on video one of these years.

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