It started last March when the landlord who used to own the apartment building I live in offered to give me a piece of furniture he no longer needed. He said I could use it to display my "telephone insulator things".

I took one look at it and said, "Sure!" It's five feet long and three feet tall with a lower shelf about six inches off the ground. The main (upper) shelf has three mirrors making up its surface. Perfect for displaying my Hemingray specialty, so into my apartment it went.

At about the same time, some new neighbors moved into the apartment downstairs. Despite a no-pets edict on the lease, they smuggled in a gray cat. The cat and I became friends and soon she was paying regular visits to my apartment. (The building was for sale and the previous landlord didn't make a fuss; the new owner doesn't seem to mind the cat either.) Little did I know that this contraband cat would someday point out a structural problem with my new insulator display.

"This contraband cat... would
point out a problem with my
 new insulator display." 

Several months passed before I got around to moving the Hemi's from my bedroom to the new display. It took a broken water pump and the resulting one day delay of a trip to Las Vegas to spur me into action. While waiting for the car to be fixed, I decided to wash my whole insulator collection. Nothing else to do. Besides, they were covered with so much dust and dirt, I could have started vegetable seeds. So the insulators were put in the bathtub (some fifty at at time), soaped, rinsed with the city mandated low-flow shower head (Is this what Reagan really meant by "trickle down?") and replaced.

"It took a broken water 
pump...to spur me into action."

When it came time to clean the Hemingrays, they were taken off the dresser, washed, dried, and placed on the new display exactly as they were on the dresser. This included a homemade two-level "insulator rack." Unfortunately, the new display was narrower than the dresser, and the front row of insulators was balanced ever so precariously on the edge of the display. Not such a terrific idea in earthquake country.

"Not a terrific idea in earthquake country."

"Is this what Reagan really 
meant by "trickle down?"

So one hot July evening, I opened the door to let in some fresh air and settled down to rearrange the Hemi' s. Some of them went on the lower shelf of the display, others were rearranged on the mirrored shelf and "insulator rack." It was while I was doing this that something rubbed against my left leg. I looked down. The neighbor's cat had evidently pawed the screen door open, let herself into the apartment, and was now demanding that I pet her. I was willing to oblige. It was while I was stroking Kitty that she walked onto the lower shelf of the insulator display. And WOW! Did that shelf SAG under her weight!

I had been just about to say, "Dang it, cat, get offa there!" when I saw just how badly that shelf was sagging. So what came out of my mouth was "OOooo, that shelf s not as substantial as I thought it was!" And in my mind's ear, I heard the ultimate insulator collector's nightmare: the sound of cracking wood followed by the sound of crashing glass.

I had already made plans to strengthen that shelf "someday." But when I saw how flimsy the shelf was, I made the job a high priority. After all, the idea of coming home to a pile of cullet was not exactly appealing to me. And I had plans for my display specifically, adding more Hemingrays. But thanks to the neighbor's cat, a potential, uh, cat-tas-trophe was prevented. Kitty got some extra love that evening.

And so it was that one day I went to a building supply store and bought a little lumber, a bottle of carpenter's glue and some nails. With the help of some tools I borrowed from my workplace, a little judicious carpentry rectified the problem.

Since then, I've improved the display still more, with further bracing of comers and shelf, a pair of plug-in fluorescent lights, and some mirror tile for the bottom shelf -- not to mention more insulators courtesy of the most recent Bakersfield show. After all, since when is adding more insulators not considered an improvement? 

"That shelf SAGGED under her weight!"

As for the neighbor's cat, she now has a name. You see, the people who own her never gave her a real name. They just call her Kitty. But in my house, her name is Mrs. Hemingray, or Mrs. Hemi for short. And she's had that name ever since she walked on my new Hemingray display. After all, she was the one who inspired me to fix the display. Thanks, Mrs. Hemi. (Now if I can only get her to leave the trash alone.)

"...a little judicious carpentry rectified the problem."