Hi! My name is Rutile and my profession is to manage and maintain the studio and the surrounding territories that Rebecca thinks is her own. I've been on this job since Easter day of 1993 when circumstances beyond my control transported me to this new job site some time in my second year on earth even though I had no collar and my belly was naked from a very recent operation that removed my primary task of increasing the world's population of my species.

My hu-mon name comes from my color which matches closely the color of Rebecca's favorite glaze colorant although my coat's actual color is that of Kaolin, pure white with a couple of tiny smoke colored smudges on my head and tail that can be matched by anyone simply by walking under a greasy motor vehicle. She was, however, accurate about my daily color as regular applications of beige dirt and dust renders it a perfect Rutile.

Although Rebecca and Beverly put much energy into finding my previous owners, it was not to be and now this is my place, first lording over the old studio and it's inhabitants. Although my size is more than ample and I project with two chins and some have even cruelly observed that when viewed from behind, I looks as if I am sitting on top of another feline.

Yet, I am no slouch. When I feel so moved, my speed will leave most hu-mons speechless and there are few cedars hereabouts who's uppermost branches I have yet to use as resting vantage points. My weight is because comfort is a very important part of my life. I also give the illusion that I sleep a high percentage of the time just to keep others off guard.

While the new studio space is beautiful, I have yet to be presented with sleeping accomodations that rival the exposed fiberglass insulation that remains in the demolition of the old space so when I am not to be found sleeping in the studio office chair, I can be found deep in the insulation. I do have my own key the the studio and a private entrance. The key became necessary when those ruffian racoons began using my private entrance to gain access and trashed the studio a few years back.

Bev and Rebecca caught one of those masked bandits and transported it to the greener pastures of the notorious Barton Creek Country club, but the door that replaced my old one requires me to wear this special device on my collar that unlocks the door as I approach. (They are not bright enough to figure out that it has stopped working because they installed my new entrance in a steel door) It also added an extra chore of sweeping the grounds of nails, screws, washers and other assorted metal filings and debris as I tour my domain.

My tolerance of all hu-mons is great and I have even allowed tiny ones to transport me about in the most awkward of grips, but I have learned to be powerful and dangerous in the presence of dog types and my senses have grown sharp enough to perceive their approach long before Rebecca has a clue.

Come visit me sometime and be sure to bring with you enough time to scratch long and gentle between and behind my ears and especially under my chin... and unlike the paranoia of most of my sisters, you may even rub and scratch my vast belly.

(Written by Beverly Howard)