This is as good a time as any for a colorful column, even though it’s in black and white. The topic arose a couple weeks back when I wrote that our in-house black panther, Flint Eastwood, has green eyes. Actually, he has yellow eyes.

My fellow pet cat-keeper straightened me out as to the correct color. She accused me of possibly being sort of colorblind, although I think it’s just a matter of chromatic interpretation perhaps related to light saturation. How’s that for weaseling?

Just the other night at a large gathering I pointed out a man wearing a green shirt. She said, “It’s not green, it’s blue.” At least, I think it went that way. Maybe I said he was wearing a blue shirt, and it was actually green. Maybe I should use some other description. Like I could say, “He’s the guy built like a refrigerator.” Or a utility pole or whatever. That might work better.

Actually, this color shift might be hereditary. I recall that Way Back, when I was the world’s oldest 2nd Class Boy Scout, my Dad bought a ‘55 Buick off a showroom floor. He told us it was green. But when he got it home, it was blue. Weird.

More than 20 years ago, while serving as editor-and-publisher of the “Curry Coastal Pilot” in Brookings, I attended annual company gatherings in Bend. Thanks to Jan, I dressed well, because she provided a list of what shirts to wear with what trousers.

She did the same thing for me when I went to a conference in Washington, D.C. All I had to do was not lose the list to look sharp. No telling what I would have looked like without that list.

At this time of my life, I manage to select shirts and trousers, or sweaters that basically go together. It wasn’t always that way. There was a time when people would point at me and fall down laughing, or cover their eyes when I came into view wearing the color combinations I’d chosen.

Actually, my being able to choose good combos probably has a lot to do with Jan weeding through my part of the closet to be sure my stuff is up to snuff and hung together. And she is good at telling me when I’ve combined unattractive colors. For example, I asked her the other day what I should wear with my yellow-and-pink shirt and purple pants. “Hip boots,” she answered.

Anyway, these days, I still can tell red traffic signals from green ones. Isn’t that enough? And if I see red, or red-and-blue flashing lights behind me, I pull to the side of the road.

As for the eye colors of our four cats: No comment.