|And no, I'm not watermarking this picture. If anyone|
really needs to steal an image of a glass cat- have at it.
There has been an update to the rapidly unfolding Glass MenagerieGate of 2012. Namely, the cat has been found.
The cat has been found.
My friend Vicki, whom I had contacted for help, had suggested that the glass animals were in the living room. Now, I had looked in the living room. I had emptied vases, opened the radiator baseboards, and upended the couch. (And it's a sectional, so you know I was serious. You don't just lightly upend a sectional.) But I looked again. And found nothing.
The next night, my sis Em, her boyfriend Dan, and their friend Tanya were here for dinner and I was regaling them with my [slightly embarrassing] tale of love and loss. At the end of it, they simultaneously stood and asked where the flashlights were. And boy did they scour. (I half-wished I had given them a dust rag and instructions to fold whatever was in their way.)
Finally, we ended up in the living room (and they were doing a number on places I didn't even know that I had failed to clean) when I suddenly decided to sit on the couch again. And shove my hand under the middle cushion- a place where not only had I checked and checked and checked again, but also the place where I had spent the past three weeks rapidly finishing my latest play...
...When a tiny glass cat tumbled into my palm.
And here's where it gets super flattering- I cried. More than a little. Yeah, I had a Laura Wingfield moment.
It makes sense that this little guy was found before his brethren, since he had been lost well before the house upheaval. But it gives me hope. Because if we can find an impossibly small orange cat (whom Emily suspects is actually an otter), then who's to say we can't find a veritable army of teensy (and quite possibly dusty) animals?
The moral of the story may be that I need to vacuum my couch more.
But I'm willing to hear other explanations.