Don’t hate him because he’s beautiful.

[$24 vintage cat lamp—still operating!—from Reruns in Saratoga Springs. Lampshade leftover from Target lamp that bit the dust.]

Yes, the paint is actually original. So was the hand-painted shade that resembled the layers of a sunset, but that stayed in the consignment shop. Have you ever seen speckles so numerous and whiskers so thick and golden?

[Carey was going to name him Pierre until she remembered that she already used that name once—when she named a giant rubber ball she bought at Wal-Mart in college during Hampden-Sydney College’s Greek Week.]

The best part about an item like this is knowing that before it is displayed humorously in our house, it was made to be displayed seriously in its first owner’s house. Regardless, we scrubbed off the nicotine haze, checked the hollow base for cocaine, gave it a distemper shot, and welcomed it into our bedroom.

Now, I can lie in bed next to Carey and speculate on all the creepiness it once cast its light upon.

-Rob