Tag Archives: tuxedo cats

What makes you buy something. For me it’s simple: YELLOW!

If I see something yellow I buy it.   I’ve had several yellow cars, painted rooms yellow, have yellow shoes.  Sadly, as much as I love yellow, it isn’t the most flattering color on me–but, still, I buy yellow shirts.

The reasons?  I have none but I do have a guess.  Yellow is like sunshine.  I see it and it cheers me up, makes me smile.  Could be seasonal affective disorder and I treat it by surrounding myself with yellow.  Or, it could be simply because I like yellow.   One of the few things George and I disagreed vehemently on was color:  he was a fan of more neutral colors.  I ceded that point to him but  used bright color in my study and bath. 

I realized this, as if I didn’t kow, yesterday when I saw a yellow plate with white dots on it.  I had to buy it.  Fortunately–because I am really cheap–the plate didn’t cost much. 

Another weakness:  a calendar with either kittens or cocker spaniels on it.  I limit myself to one a year–not easy–or I’d have them covering every wall of the apartment.  However, I don’t buy clothing with kittens or puppies on it because, after all, one must act one’s age.    And Stacy and Clinto would make me throw them all away (a reference to What Not to Wear, if you don’t pick up on those names).

What is an automatic buy for you?

Seeking your opinion

My friend Ellen assures me that pets feel the emotion of their owners and react.

Okay, I accept that about dogs.   Our Pepper would run whenever she thought George and I were about to argue because she could feel the tension between us.  Many a fight ended before it started because we laughed when she took off down the hall.    Our Dreamer would get on my lap and quiver when I cried.  She never did any other time.

But cats?  Ellen assures me they do and I might believe her now.  

We have two incredibly spoiled tuxedo cats (I may have mentioned them before).   Maggie hasn’t slept with us for years and Scooter only bothered George at night.   But during the last weeks of George’s latest and last illness,  both cats slept with me.  It wasn’t a matter of there being more space on the bed.  They cuddled with me.  Scooter used my legs as a pillow and Maggie slept against my side.   This lasted for two weeks after George died when they quit.  

So what do you think?   Did the cats pick up on my sadness and worry?  Were they comforting me?    I think so.  I believe they were using their warm little bodies to keep me warm, to keep me company.   It helped.

And here’s a picture of Kansas State’s Rodney McGrudder