Updates On Denim Shirts And Homeless Cats

WagsphotoBy Bob Wagner, AAP Columnist

My kids are dictating this month’s column. Apparently, friends and co-workers are clamoring for more information, and I have been called upon to update past stories. In particular, interest abounds regarding the fate of my favorite shirts, and more specific information about my new friend, Bob the cat.

First, I should admit that the bride made a solid effort at Christmas to resupply my denim shirt collection. Two new crisp, stainless denim shirts sprang forth from colorfully wrapped boxes on Christmas morn. They were big, reasonably soft, and, as an added bonus, unfrayed. Anticipating such a move, I had already pulled my other offending garments from the rag bag, and hidden them away. I am currently researching various stitching styles on the internet, so I can repair the fraying pockets, cover a suspicious burn hole in the front, and replace a button that flew off during a tug of war battle that I narrowly won with the bride. Information about these repairs has been difficult to come by, as most of the articles regarding these repairs are written by women. They all seem to side with the bride, and suggest simply “throw out the offending articles,” and buy new shirts. Most of the data I have been able to find seems to have been written during the great depression. Apparently, this information hasn’t made the jump to the internet yet. I am still looking, while hiding my favorite garments down at the garage.

Bob the cat has weathered the winter in fine form. My good neighbors out back erected two cat houses during the time I was doing research on construction techniques. While quite simple, the shelters lack the second floor, indoor scratching posts, and Victorian paint scheme I had envisioned. Bob, and his friend the old grey cat, appear to be warm, comfy, and overfed. In an interesting aside, my friend Jones came by recently to meet Bob, and see for himself what I have been reporting on .Jones has been a cat person for some years now, having been adopted by an old cat years back. Said cat has passed in the last year, and I suspect Jones’ reasons for visiting were motivated by thoughts of bringing Bob home to live where bowls, scratching posts, a cat bed, and various other cat goodies still remain.

During the visit, Bob appeared on call, and begged for scratches and affection, wrapping himself around legs, and shaking his little tailless tushy. The occasional meow would sound if the ear scratching wasn’t sufficient. In the few moments I was absent in the kitchen looking for kitty treats, Jones made two discoveries I had never noticed. Bob, Jones reports, has none of the physical equipment necessary to verify his male name. And secondly, Bob’s motives and desire for scratching have more to do with fleas than love of human contact.

Jones is sending over some flea drops from his stash of cat stuff he still keeps in memory of his departed feline. Thoughts of renaming Bob to something more feminine are currently under consideration. And my wife’s suggestion to stuff my old shirts into Bob’s new cat house as insulation is being ignored.

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