"Lookit the cat! LOOKIT THE CAT!"
I suppose I'd shriek the same thing if I came upon this sizable critter while walking my dog in an otherwise normal neighborhood. He's an inch or two over six feet tall and that glossy orange coat is a knock out traffic stopper. If I were totally adverse to the attention of gawkers I probably would have confined him indoors while I applied finishes touches. But that's not the way I roll.
Paper mache construction began on the back deck several weeks ago. But alas! By the time a pair of extra-chubby cheeks blossomed on this cute little face, my buddy was too wide and too bulky to fit back through the door. Grandpa helped me lower him over the railing and into the garage. I've parked outside for a month and kitty has lived contentedly inside, enjoying his journey from a pair of cardboard appliance boxes to the "Mister Purr-sonality" figure you see here.
And now what? Well, kitty is actually the last of my new attractions for our upcoming family carnival, so he's not just gonna sit here all day dreaming about pet treats. He's a working cat! One whose job it is to burp out "hairballs" for the purpose of (hopefully!) delighting children who approach him with a ticket to place in his generous paw. Once he purrs a sweet "Thank you!" he'll ease into a coughing spasm - the universally recognized warning to cat owners that something's on its way up - and its going to be slimy and gelatinous!
I'm sure there's a code of secrecy respected by carnies that keeps tricks of the trade under wraps. I probably shouldn't blab about how this game functions. So I'll just say that "maybe" it has something to do with a secret door in back, a daughter willing to sit inside with a portable mike and a sense of humor, and a box of colorful "hairballs" to toss out of Mister Purr-sonality's mouth at just the right moment!