I've realized I have a tendency to only photograph the pretty things  or scenes that I find attractive.  It's not that I don't or can't see things that are ugly, but I think that a part of me figures that with all the horrors in the world, if I'm in charge I may as well bring a little extra beauty with me. 
Seems only fair, really.

But there's a definite resistance toward things that are considered too pretty.  I'm not exactly sure if this mentality is driven by a desire for realism, or driven by a personal rejection of the status quo, and the idea that things should be arranged sharply, groomed neatly, etc.  But it's certainly there, and with photographers you'll generally find that people focus heavily on one over the other, based on their personality.

This brings me to cats.  I love cats, and Okayama is just filled with them.  But they're all strays, and from the look of things have led pretty rough lives.  Missing eyes, missing tails, patchy fur, scratchy voices that turn meows into more of a strangled howl.  The stray cats around Okayama are unquestionably ugly.  They just aren't pretty to look at.  But the way they move, or close their eyes at you before rolling around on the ground, the things they do are undeniably cat-like, and by extension, they are somehow both ugly and irresistably adorable at the same time.  I often find myself simultaneously reeling in terror and overcome with the urge to pick them all up and take them home with me.