Jean-Paul Moyer, my cat, has proven himself a poet with 22 publication credits within his first year of writing. More recently, he has taken up painting with the same aplomb. 

Each morning, while the oven preheats for breakfast, I prepare newspaper, canvas and paint, which is then covered with cling wrap and a top sheet. Jean-Paul waits until catnip has been sprinkled atop it all and then hops onto the setup, moving the paint with his body.