a memory memento [moment]

[moment 307]

These cats sit upon a built-in hutch in the dining room of my parents' house. These colorful felines hold precious memories for my children, who used to beg their Papa to take the cats down so they could give them baths, as they were always "too dusty" and in need of cleaning. 

Papa would usually oblige, letting smallish children handle these breakable glass cats. The children, honored to be entrusted with these precious objects, would handle them with love and gentle care until they returned to their perch to overlook the goings on of the household. 

Somehow the concept of "if Gramma and Papa ever move out of their house to downsize to somewhere smaller" came up in conversation and the consensus seemed to be that my children would each have to take a cat off of their hands because there are obviously too many cats to move to another place. Of all the things in the three floor house, it's those cats that hold the memories.