Pete dropped my camera. We’ve been pawing it like puzzled sloths, trying to get it to work again. I was starting to think I might have to break down and – ya know – write something. That sounds a lot like work; fortunately, this happened.
Cat blankets from the stealth knitters! Just in time, as the last batch are almost gone, except for a couple of hardy ones that for some reason didn’t get cat-kneaded into non-existence. The cats, especially those who end up spending time in a cage, love these. And adopters love them as well. When we send one home with them and let them know that people actually knit them for the cat or kitten they adopted, they get a real understanding that animal rescue is a community affair.
With five adoptables in the house, certainly we first had to check them out with the cats who were sunning on the porch. Seven and Patter gave them a once over. Seven apparently believes they make better toys than beds.
In the cat facility, Fluffy gives the blankets a snuggle test. Apparently he approves:
The cats are so happy when they get new things that smell and feel differently from the same-old same-old boring towels that smell like my usual laundry. I’ll add more photos tomorrow when they get added to their runs!
Thank you! Thank you! It’s so wonderful to know you are thinking of us!
And now everyone is happier.
Poor Impulse Control 
If someone employed little children to knit sweaters, would that be a Cardigan sweat shop? Do you need sugar to make a Cardigan sweeter?
I’m listening to Aqualung. The reason I rarely listen to music that I listened to when the world and I were young is that I miss my youth.
When the world and I were young, I was unfamiliar with cats. Now I can’t live without at least one in my life.
When you’re falling awake
and you take
stock of the new day
do you make stock
in your sock?
Would that be a shock
for me to
say?
Last weekend I said “hello” to Amanda Freitag and noted that she and I are both from New Jersey. She yelled, “Jersey rocks!” like a woo girl. She’s really a very lovely person, but like all the best chefs she uses an unhealthy amount of salt.
Pacem if you gotcem.
Man, I miss you, old bean! Write me a letter or something. I accept smoke signals C.O.D.
H
See, I wrote you a letter. Was that the most pathetic thing ever?
I award 200 points for pathos. I have spent much time treading the primrose pathos.