My Muse

Some animals don’t just walk beside us —
they become part of us.

Smudge was that cat.
Not just a companion, but the love of my life:
a steady presence, a guide, a muse
who shaped the way I see, feel, and create.

She lives in every corner of my life, still.

Anyone who’s loved an animal knows this:
they open our hearts.
And when that happens, everything changes.
We see the world a little more kindly,
a little more fully.

The love of my life – my muse 

Some animals don’t just walk beside us—they leave their mark on our hearts. Smudge was that kind of cat for me. Not just a companion, but a presence that felt utterly whole, utterly herself, and completely attuned to the quiet spaces in my life.

From the moment she arrived, it felt as if she had always been part of the rhythm of my days. She didn’t demand attention. She simply was, and somehow that was enough. Her calm, steady presence slipped into the corners where words or people couldn’t reach me, and there she stayed.

The Steady Anchor

Smudge had a remarkable steadiness. She wasn’t pushy or loud, yet her presence was undeniable. On days when I felt unmoored, she would settle beside me quietly. No expectations, no fuss—just a soft, grounding presence. Her purrs seemed to smooth out the tension in my own chest, and being near her reminded me that it was okay to simply be.

Even when I wasn’t home, there was a sense of her absence that reminded me of how intertwined our lives had become. Anyone who’s loved an animal like this knows exactly what I mean.

Personally Speaking-painting from my book

Adventures and Lessons

We shared small adventures close to home. She tolerated her harness with quiet grace, and together we explored gardens, parks, and the natural world around us. I remember seeing her sitting among magpies, bush rats, and even a fox, utterly at ease. She belonged wherever she chose to be.

Smudge didn’t trust easily. Men and children often made her wary. She carried past experiences in her body and boundaries, and she let me know what felt safe. Learning to respect her limits taught me a lot about patience, observation, and listening without interference.

Traveling with her was another lesson. Early on, I followed the “rules” and used a carrier, but the stress nearly overwhelmed her. That’s when I learned: front seat, cushion on my lap, gentle presence—that was how she could journey safely. Even trips to the vet, which she never enjoyed, ended with a softening once she felt the ride home and the comfort of being close.

Through every move, every change, every quiet or chaotic moment of life, she remained a constant. In many ways, she became my confidante. I spoke to her more than I did to most people—and I suspect she understood me in ways few could.

The Muse Behind My Life

Smudge shaped my art in ways subtle but profound. When she curled up near my paints or wandered across my sketches, her presence seemed to open something in me. She reminded me to listen—to my inner voice, to the animals I paint, to the spaces between things where meaning quietly lives.

Even in her later years, slowing with age, there was still a spark in her eyes. Saying goodbye was breaking and beautiful all at once. Holding her close, whispering thanks and farewells, I felt the depth of the bond we shared. It wasn’t ending; it was changing form.

The Love That Stays

I created a book, Smudge: Personally Speaking, to honour her life. It became a way to work through grief and to share her with others—her presence, her story, and the wisdom she offered. I found her personally rich with the ways of 9 endangered wild cats

Smudge is no longer here in body, but she lives in everything I create. In every pause, every brushstroke, every story I tell, she continues to teach me about presence, connection, and love that doesn’t fade.

May you experience that same depth of connection with another being in your own life.

Till next time, keep creative in your world…..blaze