She knew her path, as she always had.

As certain as she knew her name, Catwalk knew her future was laden with too-bright lights and long walkways, endless folds of fabric and enough canvas of cats to share her inspiration. Of course, this future had little to do with models and more to do with actual cats.

She snatched a pin out of a hold of folded fabric, watching with satisfaction as the soft weight bowed but didn't fall completely, her stitch perfectly in place. The outfit was small and the need for accuracy was great, but Catwalk never had a problem with her confidence in skill or execution. The dog the puff sleeve was on was as content as ever, unperturbed by the small filly that darted this way and that, but was ever so gentle with the animal itself. She may have been prickly around other Pones, but when it came to animals...they were more a part of her than anything. More than the 'walkers,' as she called the models.

Even if she had met a few Pones that were worth her consideration, the ones whose names she never got. Birdy, and the stranger that cold winter night almost a year ago. Not everyone sucked, thankfully.

Catwalk hummed as she double-checked the dog's vest, fluffing the cravat and sending it on its way to shine before continuing to ruminate.

No, Pones were difficult at best, muddled with words and expectations. Animals were perfect - creatures of survival but with unconditional love. They were reliable, warm, and never judged anyone else. As she began to work on tidying up a bird's belted chest piece, she considered that she really only found peace and a sort of understanding in her animal fashion. Trying to work with babbens her own age only earned her their ire and being called names and snide remarks and jealous flippancy because the adult there liked her gumption. Even when she'd had to wait with a chicken for a clueless owner to get chicken-meal, she'd been far more at ease than around any other Pone.

There was something about the animals that was just...simple. And yet, they were anything but simple. They didn't have a Purpose like the Pones did, and were at the mercy of the kindness (or lack thereof) in others. But they were faithfully kind, and their coats were fabulous. Seeing them strut their stuff as prime and prissy as you please gave her heart the greatest joy, a sort of smug satisfaction to make others see what she could see. To make them see what she was capable of, and what they were missing all this time.

That is, of course, as long as the animals were content. Their complex patterns made them the ideal accessory, and as much as the notion was unpleasant at best, the least she could do was make sure they knew they were special and beautiful and loved. It was her Purpose to make sure the true stars shined under those lights, to don them in apparel that would earn envy and adoration. It was up to her to turn fashion's blind eye the right way.
It was up to her to put the cat in catwalk.

It was her name, after all.