Since the Night Cats are responsible for so much, I figured they probably have a boss.
A fairly sappy confession: we once had a tremendous cat named Henry. We loved him with all our hearts, and he wholeheartedly loved the entire world and everything in it. Scientists claim that cats “simply don’t have the facial muscles to make the variety of expressions a dog (or human) can,” but they never met Henry, who had a vast repertoire of facial expressions for every occasion. But his habitual expression was a tremendous smile; he was usually beaming from ear to ear. (I cribbed a line from Lewis Carroll and frequently, lovingly, called Henry “my beamish boy.”)
Henry left us far too soon, and his loss left us utterly bereft. One evening shortly afterwards, I happened to glance up and saw the merest sliver of a waxing new moon. (Here comes the sappy part.) And I thought, “that’s Henry’s smile.” (I told you it was sappy.) Ever since, there have been occasions when I’ve felt discouraged and glum, and just happened to look up at the night sky to find my beamish boy … beaming.
So: I present to you Henry, in the supporting role of Head Night Cat.
A procedural note: when I first started planning Night Cats, I imagined that a significant portion of it would glow in the dark, via J. Herbin’s Phosphorescent Ink. This didn’t work out as I planned, largely because it would have required significant amounts of ink to get a really serious glow going, and Canson Mi-Teintes paper isn’t really made to withstand that much wet media.
But I did use some on this page: the Head Night Cat faintly glows in the dark. Or he should. I forgot to test it before I sent it off.
Materials: Canson Mi-Teintes paper (black), Posca paint markers, Blick Studio Acrylic paints, Sailor Silver Rolling Ball pen (which sadly seems to have been discontinued, but as of April 13, 2019 available here), J. Herbin Phosphorescent Ink.