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Let’s play

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We used to have a big, beautiful, fat and fluffy white cat.

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He was a long haired Japanese bob tail Manx that I let the neighborhood children name when we lived in North Carolina.

They were sweet kids, if not terribly original… hence the name Mr. White.

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Mr, White made the move back to Maine with us and lived a very long (24 years!) and happy life. He’s buried under a tree on our property and thanks to my mother…who loved to brush him and keep his coat silky smooth… parts of him are still with us.

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Yes, I know it’s bizarre… but the coffee table drawer in our living room that holds Lord Dudley Mountcatten’s leash and toys also contains balls of Mr White’s fur rolled into balls by my mother.

It was a running joke that he shed so much fur she could make a pillow with it one day. Or a blanket. Or a hat.

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Clearly she was on to something.

I know I should toss those old fur balls. It’s not like I’m going to knit cat hair socks or a scarf, but for some reason I just can’t bring myself to do it. Weird as it is, they make me smile.

How about you…

What weird thing can’t you bring yourself to throw out?

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21 thoughts on “Let’s play”

  1. My very first word processor. It looked like a typewriter, but you could see one or two lines of print on a tiny screen so that you could proofread your work before it was actually printed to paper.
    I was still hoping to be a writer at that time, and I used that processor for short stories snd poetry. It had a limited memory, and used memory cards that could hold another few thousands of words. To someone like me, it was a miracle. But like all technologies it wss soon replaced by bigger snd better word processors and then personal computers.
    That word proceseor potentially still has my early work on it — but I have no idea how to access it snymore. But it is a piece of my history, a record of what I was thinking about back then, what I thought was important, and who the then me wss that my present me is based on.
    Once I am gone, no one will know what it is. It looks like a typewriter but you can’t see the paper you are printing on till you hit the print button. If I had ever made it as a writer, it might be s vsluable piece of history, but since I bever made it it’s nothing but a piece of junk that has travelled around Canada with me for 50 plus years. I can’t throw it away…

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      1. A one-finger typist’s dream. Until then it took me five pages of typos for every clean page.
        Just in case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t improved much in 50 years. I make an awful lot of typos, one of which is hitting the send button before I’ve proofread my comments. It’s a hard hsbit to brake,or is that break!

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  2. I’ve had this one comb for a billion years now. Even though I still have a full head of hair, I always use a brush now and have for-ever. There is very little chance that comb will ever be utilized again, but there it still sits in my bathroom drawer.

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  3. Oh that is so sweet 🥰 I’m sure I have some stuff somewhere that could easily be trashed – I trash so much stuff with so much on the “to-go” list pending the annual junk removal day my building sponsors- but off the top of my head I can’t think of anything right now – I don’t know if I’ve ever owned anything that would be deemed weird.

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  7. I have that book.
    I made felted balls from PCB’s grooming, intending to make a necklace. They turned out to be the kittens’ preferred toys, even when offered store-bought felt balls.

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