Tuxedo Cat Quotes

Sir Isaac Mewton?" "His command over gravity rivals his namesake's.

As a child she’d been terrorized by a tuxedo cat named Rollo who would wake her at 5:00 a.m. every day by placing a soft white paw on her eyelid and leaning on it.

As we walked off the plank, we were greeted by a swarm of felines that clearly knew the boat's arrival time. There were cats stretched out on the dock, cats lounging in the morning sun, cats playing and fighting one another, and cats cleaning themselves. Calicos, tabbies, tuxedoes, ginger, and black cats. At the end of the dock were crates that had been converted into blanket-covered little cat apartments. Tails stuck out from inside the shelters. The few buildings on the street were adorned with graffiti of cats. A Japanese tourist couple also getting off the boat were more prepared than us- they had bonito flake treats to dole out to the felines. But the local fishermen sorted their wares in sheds by the road were the real treat-givers. They threw out small fish to the cats. The lucky cats on the receiving end pranced by us with fish heads and tails sticking out from either side of their mouths.

Though it was a little shabby and could do with more frequent dusting, sudents flocked to the café for the worn-in armchairs and couches, free wi-fi and cheap coffee. Ingrid particularly liked the topsy-turvy lamps, the bookshelves open for browsing and a live-in cat, Agatha. She was a temperamental, sticky-furred tuxedo who had once single-handedly thwarted an armed robbery.

It was a last-year’s-generation parrot-cat, a hyacinth-blue puffball on sim-yellow paws rimmed round the edges with brownish stains. It had a matching tuxedo ruff and goatee and piercing golden eyes that caught and concentrated the filtered sunlight.

Hope Jones and Nozy Cat held a spirited exchange, and it wasn’t the first time they’d broached the subject. “I still cannot believe I’m talking to my cat,” Hope said. You are a witch, Hope. That’s what the witches do.

Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. The cool kids of the 1960s invited the old man who had been cool before they knew cool was cool to join them in a musical romp that nobody took particularly seriously. Crosby enjoys himself. He has nothing at stake, since he’s not the star who has to carry the film. He’s very casual, and appears to be ad-libbing all his lines in the old Road tradition with a touch of W. C. Fields’s colorful vocabulary thrown in: “You gentlemen find my raiment repulsive?” he asks Sinatra and Martin when they object to his character’s lack of chic flash in clothing. Crosby plays a clever con man who disguises himself as square, and his outfits reflect a conservative vibe in the eyes of the cats who are looking him over. The inquiry leads into a number, “Style,” in which Sinatra and Martin put Crosby behind closet doors for a series of humorous outfit changes, to try to spruce him up. Crosby comes out in a plaid suit with knickers and then in yellow pants and an orange-striped shirt. Martin and Sinatra keep on singing—and hoping—while Crosby models a fez. He finally emerges with a straw hat, a cane, and a boutonniere in his tuxedo lapel, looking like a dude. In his own low-key way, taking his spot in the center, right between the other two, Crosby joins in the song and begins to take musical charge. Sinatra is clearly digging Crosby, the older man he always wanted to emulate.*17 Both Sinatra and Martin are perfectly willing to let Crosby be the focus. He’s earned it. He’s the original that the other two wanted to become. He was there when Sinatra and Martin were still kids. He’s Bing Crosby! The three men begin to do a kind of old man’s strut, singing and dancing perfectly together (“…his hat got a little more shiny…”). The audience is looking at the three dominant male singers of the era from 1940 to 1977. They’re having fun, showing everyone exactly not only what makes a pro, not only what makes a star, but what makes a legend. Three great talents, singing and dancing about style, which they’ve all clearly got plenty of: Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Dean Martin in Robin and the 7 Hoods

There’s a big tuxedo cat who probably hates the music lying on my lap. He’s basically on top of me all day when I’m working.

Big cats, little cats, striped and calico and tuxedo, sitting pert, licking their paws, lolling in puddles of sunlight.

Two of my sorority sisters had gotten married in the past six months, and three girls I’d grown up with had had babies. How had this happened? We’d all been allotted the same number of years, and they’d taken that time and built lives. Families. Meanwhile I was living in my parents’ attic, working at a job that could replace me in five minutes if I got hit by a bus, with nothing going for me but a fat tuxedo cat—sorry, Benedick—and a half bottle of wine. 

Married people can seem appealing precisely because they have a partner propping them up. Their well-chosen clothes, their cleanliness , that emotional stability you mentioned — all that is only because they have someone to support them . No wonder you find them more appealing than your average singleton. - Cronus (the tuxedo cat)