Day 2, Jasmine's Chair

There's a very large and ugly piece of furniture in my postage-stamp of a livingroom here on the Upper East side.

I have tried to get rid of it each of the six or so times we've moved in our dozen years together. But I've failed miserably.

The chair is leather. Actually, it's pleather. It was probably built in the late 80's and is the color tan you would normally find in a dentist's office. It's a sort of putrid, yellow tan.

When you sit in it, you're forced to recline in an almost full repose. In other words, you end up staring at the top corner of an opposing wall.

But I had reasons other than appearance and comfort for wanting to throw the behemoth away.

The number one reason was its obvious connection to my husband's bachelorhood.

The chair was a constant reminder of the sparce apartment he inhabited when we met. Just the chair, two end tables and a couch. And the more he seemed to fight the idea of tossing it, the more I wanted it to go.

Then, Jasmine stepped in. Rather, she climbed on.

The cat became enamoured with the chair at our house in Philadelphia. Its bowl-like seat is the perfect place for a 15-lb feline to curl up in a ball and sleep. She was even happier after I covered the cold material in an old afghan blanket that my grandmother had knitted.

As a result, I just couldn't take it away from her when we left Philadelphia. This even though we were "paring down" to move into a place about half the size of our home 80 miles to the south. I knew it would give her a sense of comfort that she would need.

Now, she climbs onto the chair at about 11 a.m. and remains there until well into the night. She only moves to walk 10 feet to her food dish or three feet to her litter pan.

That's how I ended up with the chair, and I hope it's going to be with us for a very long time.

peace.