A pink-and-white gardening glove was missing Thursday morning from Jeannine Goche's front porch. But there was absolutely no mystery about who had taken it. Willy, the cat who loves gloves, had struck again. 'It has to be him,' said Goche, an attorney. 'I've heard about him.' As if the gardeners of Pelham don't have enough to worry about, with the rocky soil and the slugs and the big trees casting too much shade, a feline felon has been sneaking into their back yards and carrying off gardening gloves.
I doubt that even Willy would have been interested in my recently retired rubber palmed, cloth backed garden gloves. I had them for years and they are virtually indestructible. As much as it pained me to throw out a comfortable, functional pair of gardening gloves (these were especially good for handling thorny roses) I had to draw the line when they began to remind me of a certain Spinal Tap record.I tried washing them to no avail. I have replaced them with a new pair but the smallest size I was able to find was a medium (even on their website the SMs are out of stock). My hands are like tiny, mummified monkey paws and the mediums are way too large - I hate the feel of them. Maybe Willy wants them... here kitty, kitty.
Via Arbroath
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