hidden & heavenly

Before heading out for work this morning I was, as is my custom, vacuuming up the stray litter from the “men’s room” [see illustration above] of my apartment. I lifted up the entrance mat to get at the area beneath it, and then paused, perplexed. After staring for a moment at the oddly-shaped little mass that I found hidden there in the dimly lit hallway, I peered more closely. And what I discovered made me laugh.
Yesterday evening I thought I was losing my mind. After several months of being rather smitten with this new herbal tea—lavender chamomile—that Mom first gave me for Christmas, I have been replenishing my own supply so that I can enjoy a nightly cup of it.
This would be fine, except for my recent nagging conscience about the fact that I am spending a pretty penny on this fancy tea. I mean, each one of these little tea bags is a work of art, I dare say. Seriously, even the shape is artistic—a little diamond instead of your average little tea-bag-square. And instead of the normal papery filter, these bags are surrounded by a sheer, finely-woven, shimmery mesh. Well, it was love at first sight—and I hadn’t even tasted the delicate chamomile with its lavender aroma when I first held up that tea bag to gaze at it . . .
So you get the point. At any rate, it’s a pricey little purchase, considering I drink it basically nightly. Well the other day, I decided I should just start reusing the bags—just once—as the tea brews quite strongly. This way I could still enjoy the tea but get double the value. So I just steeped it for slightly less time then removed the bag and placed it on a plate on the counter—to use the next night.
But last night I came home to an empty place. There was the place I had—so I thought—laid the tea bag. But it was most definitely not there. My final conclusion was that I had only imagined myself placing the bag on the plate, while in actuality I had thrown it away out of habit.
But no, I had placed the tea bag where I thought I had. It simply had never occurred to me that Aslan could get onto the countertop. He can. And he did. And he decided that my little saved tea bag was the perfect toy for the day. Now whether he purposefully hid it under the mat to save—hidden—until I was gone again, I suppose I shall never know. Then again, do all cats go to heaven? Hmmm . . .