On one of my recent trips to the NC mountain cottage, my sister-in-law suggested I bring this quilt home with me. It was in my home when I was a child, and its acquisition definitely predates my parents' acquisition of me. (I.e., I don't know how old it is, but it's older than 60.)
It's not a particularly precious quilt. It does not have all the embroidery outlining each piece, as normal (and highly prized) Crazy Quilts have. It's just something that's older than me that's been in my family for many, many years.
I was very happy to get it, and decided it needed to hang over the railing at the top of the stairs in my 1927 Colonial.
Angel, however, has different ideas of where it belongs. He thinks it belongs under his butt!
Each time I hang it over the railing, he waits an appropriate amount of time, then goes out and pulls it down, quickly planting himself in the middle of the puddled quilt where he can simultaneously survey upstairs and downstairs activities.
Who knew cats had ideas (and such definite ideas!) about interior design?
Cute? Cute!
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