Long, long ago, I told you (here, in fact) about how the Manse needed a hassock, an oddball object that was unavoidable in North American households in the middle of the 20th century (including here in Queensborough when I was growing up at the Manse) and that has since kind of gone missing in action. Later, I delightedly told you (here) about how Raymond and I finally acquired a cool midcentury hassock that fits right in with the midcentury vibe of our happy Queensborough house. (And if you’re wondering why a house that was built in the Victorian days of 1888 has a mid-20th-century vibe – well, chalk it up to my midcentury youth here.)
Anyway, what you might not know – yet – is that one of the favourite recurring characters here at Meanwhile, at the Manse, Sieste the cat, totally loves that Harvest Gold hassock. It is one of her preferred places to perch, and she’s even got used to the fact that it has wheels and sometimes rolls around a bit when she jumps up on it. (I think maybe it’s her version of a midway ride at the Madoc Fair.)
Even as I write this, Sieste is on the hassock by my right knee, keeping an eye on me and on all that might be going on in the Manse’s dining room on a quiet Wednesday night. Which is, truth be told, not all that much – but then it doesn’t take a lot to amuse Sieste.
Anyway, I thought I’d share the photo that’s at the top of this post because I found it funny how Sieste felt she had to find a place on the hassock a couple of nights ago, even though much of the hassock space was taken up with a piece of paper showing the schedule of services at St. Andrew’s United Church here in Queensborough and the two churches with whom we share the services of The Rev. Caroline Giesbrecht, St. John’s United in Tweed and Bethesda United in the hamlet of White Lake. The schedule was there on the hassock so I could refer to it as I did some church work – I am the secretary at St. Andrew’s – but Sieste could not bear to have her space usurped. So she kind of worked her way into the situation, first by jumping up and announcing her intention to make that pesky piece of paper make way for her:
And then by trying to find a way to settle down beside it without looking like she was being too accommodating to this annoying intrusion on her space:
And then finally settling herself comfortably (without disturbing the church schedule, I might add) and making peace with the situation.
You’ve heard of separation of church and state? Well, I consider this separation of church and cat. A separation in which, appropriately, everything has its place. Right there on the hassock.