“Quiet on the set!” the Director called.
The rustling quieted. I was almost seven weeks old and getting used to the soundstage.
“Lights!”
The bank of lights turned on, blazing.
MamaGrace and the Director disappeared behind the glare.
I blinked.
“Action!”
I blinked and blinked. Blue and copper. Blinking.
I turned around, looked straight at the camera, and meowed.
That’s it.
I just meowed.
It was my most woebegone meow.
It was a cry for my mama.
It was a cry for someone to come and pick me up and pet me.
Someone, please. Lonely. Needy. DaddyAlbert, come home.
MamaGrace said my odd eyes were riveting. That means people couldn’t look away.
I looked straight at the camera and said, “Mew! Eh!”
The “Eh!” was for an exclamation. It made it sound even sadder.
MamaGrace says that looking into the camera’s eye creates a special soul contact.
Me connecting with you.
That scares me.
But it shoots the views sky high.
Meeew! Eh!