A Cozy Creative Life

My friend and I have made many trips to Williamsburg together. We both love cats, antiques and collectibles, so naturally, shopping is always part of our visits.

On one particular trip, we stopped at a consignment shop in Merchants Square. As I was looking around, I spotted a little ceramic cat pitcher and immediately recognized it as Shawnee.

Then I saw the price.

Seven dollars.

I thought I had found a great deal.

And I had.

For a little while.

My friend stayed at the consignment shop to look around a little longer while I went somewhere else. When I came back, we both had our hands full.

I reached for the bag containing my newly discovered cat pitcher.

And it dropped.

I didn’t even want to look. I knew what had happened.

The little cat that had survived who knows how many years had just smashed into pieces on the ground.

Technically, it was my fault. My friend thought it was hers.

So we agreed it was our fault.

We were both heartbroken—not because I had lost seven dollars, but because the little pitcher was so cute. We both love cats and antiques, and I had been so pleased to find it.

We went back to the car and talked about where we wanted to go next. We had finished shopping in Merchants Square, and we remembered a large antique shop we had visited on an earlier trip.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find another little Shawnee cat.

And even if we didn’t, we both loved looking at antiques and collectibles, so we decided it was worth a try.

When we arrived, I asked the person at the counter if they had any Shawnee collectibles. They weren’t sure. The antique shop was so large, with so many different vendors, that it was impossible for them to know exactly what was there.

So we started looking.

We went up and down the aisles, keeping our eyes open for another little cat. We found plenty of other interesting things along the way, but no Shawnee cat.

After a while, we were getting tired—and hungry.

There was a snack bar inside the antique shop, and we decided it was time to stop for something to eat and drink.

There was just one aisle we hadn’t looked down yet. It was mainly filled with books, and by then I was ready to call it quits.

My friend suggested we look anyway.

I reluctantly agreed.

About halfway down that last aisle, I spotted something on a shelf—a group of Shawnee collectibles.

And there, locked inside a glass case, was one little Shawnee cat pitcher.

I pushed the button for someone to come and unlock the case. When they opened it, I picked up the little pitcher and carefully checked it for cracks and chips.

It was in good condition.

Then I looked at the price tag.

$40.

My seven-dollar bargain suddenly didn’t seem quite so easy to replace.

“Oh, I’m not paying that,” I said. I was sure I could find another one somewhere else.

My friend had other ideas.

It was my birthday, and she insisted on buying the little cat pitcher for me as my birthday present.

We’ve made many happy trips to Williamsburg together over the years, but we agreed that this particular trip would be one we would always remember.

I started the day with a $7 bargain, lost it in a matter of seconds, and ended up with a $40 birthday present from a very good friend.

And this time, the little cat made it home safely.

Today, it sits on a shelf in my corner cupboard among my mother’s blue-and-white china—a little reminder of a very memorable day in Williamsburg and a very good friend.