singlet," the Senior Cat tells me. He is standing in the doorway holding up a sad looking piece of cloth. Oh. The hole is large, very large.
The Senior Cat is old enough that he wears singlets all year round. It doesn't matter how hot it is he puts a singlet on under his shirt.
I have tried to explain that it might be cooler not to wear one in very hot weather. It makes no difference. He puts a singlet on.
He has a collection of singlets. I have just hung two on the line. They both have small holes in them. They are his "old" singlets. The singlets he refuses to part with because, he says, "I can still wear them around the garden."
When he says such things I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He doesn't like to waste anything. I know I am almost as bad. I do use things as dusters or something else when they have holes in them. I clean my house shoes with socks that are more darn than sock.
But the Senior Cat hates to throw anything away. He still wears a sports jacket that is more than 70yrs old. His father made it for him. It has been relined three times. Harris Tweed doesn't wear out - or so it would seem.
I had to forcibly remove a pair of house trousers from him last year - after he had tried to mend them himself. I held them up to the light and showed him "you can see through these". His "gardening trousers" are a disgrace. He loves them. They have multiple pockets. (I am with him on the pockets.) They also have multiple stains and thin places and a couple of patches.
I have discovered, at last, that shirts are simple to be rid of. I just take the buttons off. He does know how to sew a button on but all those buttons? He knows when he is beaten - and the last shirt was a flannelette one with a badly frayed collar and a rip where the fabric was so thin the body had come away from the sleeves on both sides. "But it was a good shirt! I could still wear it!" No, you couldn't.
His "good" shirts progress to being "house" shirts to "shed or garden" shirts. He will go on wearing singlets underneath them. He will go on wearing his disgraceful gardening clothes.
And although I growl I love it all. I love that he still needs things. He will be 94 tomorrow.