To a cat’s eye, all things belong to cats. (English proverb)
. . .the wildest of all the animals was the cat . . . And the cat said, “all places are alike to me — why should I not go, too, and see and look, and come away at my own liking” . . . (Kipling)
From my vantage point of early morning coffee-on-the-porch, I observe that it is mostly cloudy, but I do see enough blue sky up there to make a pair of cat’s britches. That means it’s gonna clear up. How can I forecast the weather based on cats’ britches, you ask? Let me tell you a true story.
My sister’s cat, Toby, was once invited to the Fairy Queen’s party. It was the Queen’s birthday, and everyone was asked to wear her favorite color, blue. Toby is the sort of a cat who definitely dances to his own drummer, hanging out in shorts and sandals most of the time, and had no nice clothes. Toby went immediately to Jim-the-weather-guy and asked him if he would give him a bit of blue sky so he could make himself some britches. Jim-the-weather-guy was a crotchety old thing (sort of like Toby) and said he didn’t want to because he’d just gotten the clouds together for a good spell of rain, and the clouds, being even meaner than the weather guy, wouldn’t cotton to any kind of request to get lost for awhile. But Toby, being a clever sort, was able to persuade the weather guy to give it a try. (I won’t tell you how, since this is a short blog, and cats already have a bad name in some quarters.)
So Jim-the-weather-guy pushed and pried the clouds apart enough that quite a nice piece of blue showed, and he gave it to the clever crotchety cat, who hurried home and made himself a pair of britches in no time. But the clouds, being ticked off at having been so rudely poked and pried, not only refused the weather guy’s request to come back together, but showed him their rear ends as they drifted even further apart.
The weather was fine for the Queen’s party, and Toby looked splendid in his new blue britches, which he wears to this day, altho’ they are now kind of raggedy. Unfortunately Jim-the-weather-guy had to work all night to make up with the clouds, (and even then they wouldn’t let loose more than a few drops of water), and he resolved never to help out a cat again. But this isn’t his story, so that doesn’t matter.
And that’s the story of why, to this day, when you see enough blue sky to make a pair of cat’s britches, it’s gonna clear up. (With apologies to Rose Fyleman who wrote a far more sensible version of this in 1923.)