Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: I have always been partial to tuxedo cats. There were several prior to Cookie who is the current puss to claim that title here at Deitch Studio. This old photo postcard came in over the transom recently. It was never mailed and there is nothing written on the back. I think there is something very sincere about it – not a great photo but perhaps a beloved one. It is unclear to me what kitty is perched on but it creates a seamless background.

I like his mug. Uneven spotty nose markings, not unlike Cookie whose markings are a bit uneven as well. He looks right into the camera – either getting up or settling down. He has a nice white chest, long whiskers and fat white paws.

The first tuxedo of my acquaintance was a cat named Mitzie. She was one of a bevvy of cats during my childhood, a small friendly female. She lived quietly and well behaved, sort of in the middle of the pack in the house at that time. (A photo disclaimer – I cannot access my full library of cat photos from NJ and my mom’s are still in disorder so you are not getting a full cat display today, just Cookie and Blackie!)

And my first very own cat was a tux and she was a girl cat I named Otto Dix. She had perfectly even markings and was an especially smart cat and we were truly of one mind. She slept on my pillow at night and picked and choose through my boyfriends in an opinionated way. My mom broughther home for me from the local farm, Sickles, still known for its corn. (She swooned over the smell of corn silk her entire life.) Otto famously puked up a stomach worm on the pillow of one paramour – you don’t forget something like that too quickly. Luckily she adored Kim from day one.

My sister adopted a tux she found in a parking lot here in New Jersey while walking her dog. It was the dog’s cat and therefore she named her Milkbone. Milkbone was a good mouser and a lovely cat. Loren always said that she should have been my cat but I had just adopted my next tuxie named Zippy.

Zips was an unqualified and undeniable moma’s boy. He pretended fear of Kim roughly up to his dying day. I found him in an antique jewelry store. I had gone to look at lockets and came back with Zippy. He lived to a very long life. During Zippy’s reign there was the very wonderful tux named Roscoe who was a huge lovable fellow.

Our Blackie, all black except for a white spot on his chest, like a badge, is a not quite tux to Cookie’s tux-ness. (He has white underpinnings too but you need to know him well to see those.)

In wrapping this post, I will report that this morning, as I waffled on whether or not I needed to hand feed Blackie so he could get a shot of insulin, he marched over to his dish like a regular fellow and ate some breakfast. I would say he and Cookie are not quite up to their usual consumption but both are eating out of dishes, a bit more dry food than usual, but in approved normal fashion. Whew. Now they are starting to eye the threshold of the bedroom and what is beyond. I’m sure there’s more to come!