My house is full of mirrors. Sort of like a funhouse, but with more antiques. The mirrors don’t make you look fat or short, just silvery or slightly out of focus.
It’s also full of cats—only some of which are the product of “vitreous trickery*.”
There are some new cat-faces around here—we took in a pair of cat-sisters from a refuge in North Carolina. This is Alice, looking for the enchanting cat she sees in the mirror. Her sister, a calico we call George Eliot, is around here somewhere.
Five cats and a dog is quite a bit to manage in 800 square feet, but not as much as you might imagine. They all find their little spots to perch, and the two new cats—though full-grown—are as tiny as they are sweet. They charmed Ricky during his shifts as a volunteer at the refuge, and, after weeks of saying no, I succumbed as well. After all, it’s long been clear that we’re running a small and thoughtfully-decorated animal refuge here. It’s work I’m willing to do—joyfully, and with delight in their company.
*that phrase, which I love, comes from an article on glass by Chris Otter—I read it several years ago, but the words are always bumping around in my head.
