The Rembis Report and Other Fascinating Topics - Volume XLVI

I have a 23 year old chair.

May 12, 2022

I have a 23 year old chair.

I keep it because it is exceptionally comfortable and serves us well. We have moved it around the country to three different states and six residences. For some reason, I just can't seem to part with it. It's not broken, so why would I ever get rid of my old chair?

Our cat, Zoom, loves it. He spends a good ten to twenty percent of his day in that chair, so he has incentive to keep it, too.

People get attached to things. Some pieces of furniture more than others. We have also been hauling a huge dining table with six chairs around the same places for almost as long. I think it is only twenty years old, so one less residence.

But there are no plans to change. Like the old saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But sometimes a piece of furniture wears out, gets stinky, and it has got to go. Luckily, my chair does not qualify as stinky, and is not meeting with demise this week, as far as I know, and is safe for the time being. Zoom can safely maintain his daily routine.

But he has other places to sit, and he does. Sometimes he sprawls out on the cool terrazzo floor, or an area rug, or the couch, or a bed, or some other chair, or a table, or a desk, and sometimes, he sits in the cat tree we bought for him and Velour, his feline companion, our other cat.

Velour spends a great deal of time in the cat tree, watching what happens in front of our house, monitoring the birds who visit the feeder and bath. It is a perfect perch for her, six feet high.

So when it got old, and worn out, and had to go, we knew she would miss it, so we bought a new one, and took the old one to the curb.

We are fortunate, that in our municipality, the city will take away any kind of trash you take to the curb. Anything. They do not judge and they do not refuse your refuse, no matter what it is.

Like all towns, there are contingents of people keeping their eyes peeled for curbside treasure. After I took it to the street, Ellen went out a few minutes later with a handwritten sign to hang on it stating "FREE!" for anyone who wanted it. She was too late. I don't know who grabbed it, but she never even got to hang the sign. Velour did not see who it was either, because she refused to sit on the new cat tree. For nearly two weeks, Zoom and Velour dismissed and refused to acknowledge the new cat tree. It just wasn't right. It smelled like a factory. The new car smell. Cats don't want that. They want the stuff they put their scent on. Now that I think about it, I realize that our entire house is just a cave marked by animals.

Cats, like people, just want their stuff. They have strings and toy mice and balls and love new cardboard boxes, but eventually these things wear out and get tossed away. What is a poor cat to do?

Driving home one day, I saw what one cat did in response to a cat tree at the curb of a residential, but still busy, two lane street with a 30 MPH zone. It was a day before trash day, and up ahead, there was an old, ripped up, lonely cat tree, waiting for removal. I don't know if it was in worse shape than the one we threw out, I was driving near the posted speed limit, but as I went by, I could not miss the cat sitting on top of it.

He (or she) was not giving up. This is my furniture and you can take it when you pry it from my cold, dead claws. WOW!

Whether or not that was exactly what the cat was thinking, I could never know, but I wondered about all of the possible scenarios that brought about that moment. Was that cat so stubborn that he got out of the house and sadly climbed up on the tree for one last hurrah? Would he attack anyone who tried to take it. Maybe.

Maybe it wasn't his tree to begin with. Maybe this was the feral cat who lived outside and always saw through the window the cat sitting on it, who it originally belonged to. Maybe there was a rivalry, and when it went to the curb, the feral cat looked back at the domestic one, How do like me now? Yeah, I look good on this tree. Matches my fur.

Or, the domestic cat may have rejoiced for the feral one, as she stared out her window, refusing to sit on the new and improved cat tree with the extra bouncy ball on a string that would not be played with, and thought Avenge me!

Why cats dig Red Dawn and keep quoting lines from that movie, I can't say, but like any other creature who has found a comfortable spot they call home, they do not like it to be ripped away and destroyed, even if it is old. It is theirs'.

I hope nobody is coming for my chair.

Thanks for not kicking me to the curb.