The Skies the Limit

Picture it: Costco, December, 2004. A man and woman stand before a display, discussing intently, sometimes giggling. Around them, passersby load bulk soda flats into their carts and wheel away. The woman runs her hands over the item, checking for dings and missing carpet. The man lifts one experimentally; it isn't heavy. They move the package of refrigerated chicken flautas aside, and stack their co-flats of Dr. Pepper and Diet Dr. Pepper on the bottom of the cart. Together they lift the item high over the side of the cart and set it down. It stands about ten feet tall, towering over the people. They giggle.

A fellow shopper stops to watch. "My cat would approve," she says.

And suddenly, we're those people. The mantle of invisibility is lifted and everyone is watching BF and myself wheel giant cat furniture towards the cashier. The place is crowded and every second person needs to comment. "Don't forget to douse it in cat nip!" "You're going to have some happy cats." "I wish I had the room!"

We skirt the main part of the warehouse, keeping to the edges. It's difficult to manuever a cat skyscraper, make no mistake. I run ahead to find Listerine and various oversized toiletries. Other people's eyes travel up the length of the cart and back down to us. I acknowledge their curiosity with a slight nod and a giggle.

"How come everything we buy makes us giggle?" says BF.

The cashier is short and the barcode is taped to the Penthouse suite. The cashier employs the bagger as a human ladder and for one brief shiny, moment, achieves the desired scanning height.

BF lowers the top of his convertible and we prop the cat skyscraper against the passenger's seat. He ties the tallest post down and I sit beside it, leaning in for support against the wind. Every third driver on the freeway passes us, smiling. Some wave.

Truly, dear reader, we found the holiday spirit. It lives in cat furniture from Costco. Spread the word.