Trygg is reading A Sportsman's Sketches by Ivan Turgenev. I'm reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. I see Trygg give me a look. He shakes his head. I say, "What? There's a cat in the story." (Actually, there isn't. It's just a pet name Hemingway and Hadley had.)
Trygg holds up his iPad. I go back to my book. We continue reading in silence. Trygg leaves the room. I figure I should see what he's up to. He's sitting on the dresser. He has one of my ties. One that's identical to the one I'm wearing. I figure this is some kind of bonding thing.
Trygg can't tie a tie. Well, he can, but not very well. So I go over to help him tie his tie. My tie, actually. Trygg likes a half-Windsor. He wears narrow collars so I imagine he would. As Trygg likes to say, "Why does someone who wears a shirt with a collar the width of my paw tie his tie into a knot the size of my head?" I agree.
I straighten his tie, I straighten my tie, and there we are. Side by side looking into the mirror. Guy stuff. Almost.
"I am a cat. Don't you think I look silly wearing a tie?"
Okay, guy stuff.
"Yes," I agree, "but I don't get your point."
"I just want you to know how silly you look reading a book." He takes off his tie and goes back to his iPad.
I go back to my book. I have to admit, he's right.
Even the cat winks.
Sincerely,
Slim
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