The imperfection in the Persian rug.

{With room for one more.}

A Persian rug must have a flaw if it is to be deemed, according to old proverb, perfectly imperfect and precisely imprecise. An intentional and slight imperfection (derived from religious belief that God is the only perfect being), such Persian irregularities have been on my mind of late. This week I carried home one Chinchilla Persian cat in need of love, the very feline embodiment of this idea. She is an adorable peppermint-green eyed lady who rolls over onto her back and paws at the sky with glee. With crinkled whiskers and a loud motor, she is in dire need of affection and care. Recently surrendered by a nearby neighbour focused on renovations, too busy to care for a nuisance cat, she comes to us all matted fur, blackened feet, and fleas. A cat from the Iranian plateau, she is in possession of my heart, pulling at the strings as though I were a ball of wool.

Having made a home for her temporarily in the bathroom (until the fleas are under control and she has been to the vets for her shots medical), I am hoping Omar and Olive take kindly to her lest I need find her new home.

(As soon as she is all patched up I will post a photo of her.)

+ "...a cheek-flushing rush of inspiration followed by a little soul-crushing jealousy", we pop up on The Jealous Curator.