Her official name was Violet Angle, violet/purple is Josh (grandson’s) favorite color and he got to name her since she was really his trick or treat gift 16 years ago this month. We called her Angel, since a yellow tabby called Violet might have given her identity problems and God knows she was nuts to come into this crazy household anyway.
She was a true tabby and she either loved you to pieces or wanted nothing to do with you…and she hated the vet! I had never seen a spiting cat until we took her to the vet the first time. She went into the cat carrying case a cute 8 week old kitten and came out at the vet’s office a spitting, growling angry yellow cat. Vet even commented, “You have this cat around children?” We assured him this was not our kitten and so after the exam he put that angry cat back into the carrier and when we got back home our sweet angle walked out, purring and rubbing up against us. That remained her attitude right up to her last day; she either loved you or wanted nothing to do with you… although over the years she learned to just hide rather than make a lot of noise.
She loved to sit and watch me whatever I was doing. And her best times were ironing days and stitching times. On ironing days she would lie on the floor by the cord so it would brush over her as I moved theiron. She never batted at the cord just used it as her personal rubbing tool.
Stitching time was by far her greatest joy. She knew about the time I would be heading to my stitching nest and would wait patiently on the arm of the chair and wait for me to show up. She would sit patiently until I got everything situated to stitch and would then find her place on my lap to begin her naps. She was just interested in keeping my lap warm and occasional scratching behind the ears. She would adjust her sleeping position so that my under the canvas hand would stroke her as I stitched.
She was the best stitching cat I know; she was so courteous about leaving threads alone but would wake up from an apparent dead sleep to let me know I dropped a thread or stitching tool. She would wake and look down at the misplaced item as if to say,
“Let’s get this picked up…you are disturbing my naptime.”
Angel, you will be missed; my lap will be cold in the winter and now I will have to keep track of my own stitching tools and threads. I know you are looking for the purr-fect stitching cloud for us and romping with all the other stitching cats that are there to share their people tales; but don’t pick up any bad habits…my threads are still off limits.
Thank you for stopping by… I hope you find time to stitch today!