The Throne

This weekend, I want to talk about the Throne.

No, first I want to talk about this disturbing greeting card my mother sent me from Key West, where she continued to party for several days after I left.

Dogs with bras are wrong, Mom.

Okay, with that out of the way, on to business.  I got the Throne at the amazing Alameda Antiques Fair for $15.  The moment I saw it, I knew it would be one of the centerpieces of my future tiki office/bar.  I could already envision the masterpieces I would write and draw while seated on this rattan marvel:

Clearly, I thought, this was the seat of royalty!

Unfortunately, my cat Tesla agreed with me and, the moment I brought it into the house, claimed ownership of the Throne.

And I do mean instantly.  I wedged the chair through the front door, set it down, and Tesla jumped into it and assumed the library-lion position.  Ever since, the Throne has been her favorite spot.  We’ve tried moving it to different locations, but it does nothing to dampen her enthusiasm.  If we try to put her on other chairs or the couch, she jumps down and returns to the Throne.

There was a period of about a month when Tesla and the Throne had some kind of falling-out.  I think it was caused by Andrew moving the Throne close to our friends at a get-together, in the hope that Tesla would sit on it and socialize with our guests instead of marching past them disdainfully and squatting in a corner to gnaw on her catnip sock.  Tesla didn’t care for this manipulation, and for a while she avoided the Throne, even after we moved it back to its previous position.  But she and the Throne made amends, and it’s her go-to spot again.

Now Andrew is saying we can’t put the throne in my tiki office because it would break Tesla’s cold little feline heart.  I am deeply displeased by this argument, but…well…she’s very comfortable.

Clearly I am a pretender to the Throne.

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