Yes, I'm one of those kind of knitters.
Like frat houses and backwards baseball caps, patchouli and VW buses, or flip flops and anyone in Portland, there seems to be a direct correlation between knitters and cats.
I'm no exception.
So as I continue to toil away on Kepler v 1.5 (I've finished the back and am staring with purpose/anguish at the sleeve cable bands) here's a brief introduction to the hairier members of my little family:
Xena, warrior princess
Xena was found on the side of the road five years ago. The Mr.'s co-worker brought her in after not being able to find anyone to claim her in his neighborhood. She was a month old white fluff ball and neither of us could turn her away. I don't know what happened during her month on the streets, but she's the shy, skittish, stranger-averse one of our two "kids". She gets the name more for her beautiful blue eyes than any ululating chutzpah.
Junebug, the dogcat
Junebug came into our home as a companion for Xena. We'd go to work and Xena would be huddled on the back of the couch facing the front door with her huge eyes ("as big as bells" as Mr. Eitzel would say) and we'd come home to find her in exactly the same spot, as if she was afraid we weren't coming back.
Our local free paper has a "free pets" section. We got in touch with a couple that lived out in the sticks in a trailer with the mama cat, her adolescent daughter from a previous litter, her current litter of five kittens, a wolf-looking dog, and a guinea pig. The lastest litter were delivered in one of the women's dresser drawer, and Junebug was the calmest of the bunch. She also apparently had a fetish for sleeping in the women's hair. Cute when she was a kitten. Maybe not so much now that she's a twelve pounder. We call it the "where's the nipple?" game.
Due to her instant socialization with all the menagerie in that trailer, Junebug is fearless, inquisitive, and downright agressive when it comes to getting fed. She used to play fetch until she realized it was unbecoming.
She and Xena were our first pets ever, so they trained us more than we trained them. Thus my knitting must be carefully monitored and stored for fear of meeing up with Mr. Klaw:
Oh no you DI-INT come at me with one of them clipper thingies!
I'm no exception.
So as I continue to toil away on Kepler v 1.5 (I've finished the back and am staring with purpose/anguish at the sleeve cable bands) here's a brief introduction to the hairier members of my little family:
Xena, warrior princess
Xena was found on the side of the road five years ago. The Mr.'s co-worker brought her in after not being able to find anyone to claim her in his neighborhood. She was a month old white fluff ball and neither of us could turn her away. I don't know what happened during her month on the streets, but she's the shy, skittish, stranger-averse one of our two "kids". She gets the name more for her beautiful blue eyes than any ululating chutzpah.
Junebug, the dogcat
Junebug came into our home as a companion for Xena. We'd go to work and Xena would be huddled on the back of the couch facing the front door with her huge eyes ("as big as bells" as Mr. Eitzel would say) and we'd come home to find her in exactly the same spot, as if she was afraid we weren't coming back.
Our local free paper has a "free pets" section. We got in touch with a couple that lived out in the sticks in a trailer with the mama cat, her adolescent daughter from a previous litter, her current litter of five kittens, a wolf-looking dog, and a guinea pig. The lastest litter were delivered in one of the women's dresser drawer, and Junebug was the calmest of the bunch. She also apparently had a fetish for sleeping in the women's hair. Cute when she was a kitten. Maybe not so much now that she's a twelve pounder. We call it the "where's the nipple?" game.
Due to her instant socialization with all the menagerie in that trailer, Junebug is fearless, inquisitive, and downright agressive when it comes to getting fed. She used to play fetch until she realized it was unbecoming.
She and Xena were our first pets ever, so they trained us more than we trained them. Thus my knitting must be carefully monitored and stored for fear of meeing up with Mr. Klaw:
Oh no you DI-INT come at me with one of them clipper thingies!
posted by minnaming at
6:57 PM
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