You may not know that I don't write these posts by myself. I am coached by my friend, Bob...aka Roberto del Gato, aka El Diablo, aka Blob. I'll let you guess what I may call him on any given day.
He lives for us to sit at our kitchen table, 
wedging himself into whatever space is left between our two notebook computers. If I'm not paying enough attention to him (he loves tummy rubs), he sits up and gently pats my shoulder with his paw. Once I've given him enough back scritches, he then falls into his favorite position...lying next to my computer, resting his head gently on the keyboard.
Moving him is another issue. We just returned from the vet's office, where he weighed in at a healthy (uh huh) 19.8 lbs. The thing is, he shares the same bowl of dry food our other two (skinny) cats eat from. I find some solace in this absolute proof that genetics do play a part in what shape we become.
While the vet and I were talking, I happened to mention Bob's penchant for eating all things fibrous...preferably wool...although I have seen him desperately trying to gobble strings and threads from any place he can find them. I told her this in defense of his limited exercise space. Half our house has been closed off to cats due to his snacking habits...a result of his decision to chomp off the warp on my loom on several occasions, followed by my discovery that he had chewed open the bottoms of MANY skeins of hand spun yarns hanging from the walls. Sometimes while I'm knitting, my work in hand takes off like I've just landed a tuna...because I've been sloppy and left my working ball of yarn vulnerable. Where is this going, you ask? Her diagnosis: he's a wool sucker! No kidding! I had to come home and google this to confirm her words. This is actually documented in the halls of veterinary science. Who knew?
I'm signing off now, to go sit and work on my lace shawl...without an assistant. ---Martie
5 comments:
you made me think to weigh Kitty Dog because she just seems so heavy...she weighed in at a pretty hefty 15 pounds...and all she does all day is lay looking at the yellow finches at the bird feeder..she never even attempts to catch one.which i am actually glad about....lazy dang cat....
My recommendation would be a professional trainer who could teach him to knit. He could then take over the night shift and get that pesky shawl finished. Of course you would have to bribe him with a ball of angora.
Bennie: Bob says to tell Kitty Dog she's a dainty thing and he'd like to meet her.
Monte: If only this could be so! Just moments ago, he was getting ready to appropriate the ball of Kid Silk Night on the table next to me/us (he sleeps in a wooden box to my right side, on the coffee table next to my rocker).
Just imagine the hairballs he would have if only he could succeed in his mission...
Bob is a cutie!!
I think that eating fiber has something to do with the amount of our time, and attention away from them. It only seems to happen with bright animals. The truly smart ones know that if we aren't spinning or knitting, we would be cleaning, so they don't get too upset by the whole thing. It is the lesser of two evils. But the (just) bright ones, well they figure they will get our attention!
My greyhound, Lazy Ass (yup really), or LA for the pure of heart, loves knitting. Adores it. He is a fiber artist, you see, but his work is a lot more deconstructed than mine.
But he doesn't bother the fringe on the wool rugs, or any alpaca - just spinning and knitting wool. Not sure why.
But OMG, you should have seen him when I got in a Kilo of Bunny fluff. He was animated, excited even. Tail wagging, ears up, body at the ready. He would love him some bunny fur. So I have to store it in a "the special" box. Whenever I open "the special" box he gets excited all over again.
Before I got LA, I had piles of projects in baskets all over the house. Now I have piles of fiber boxes all over all house. Oh well, what would we do without them?
Happy Spinning.
Holly
Hi Holly: You are absolutely right. Bob would like me to be his personal masseuse during all waking hours. He is the cat of a lifetime...more personality than the many others I've loved in my life...and sadly, for him, he came into our lives at a time when I'm so busy with work, I just can't sit around and spend my days loving him as he would like.
When I was a kid, I begged and begged my mom for an angora sweater we could ill afford, and somehow she managed it. It was Kelly green, and I thought I was the luckiest girl alive. I carefully stored it way high in a hall closet we had. One day, I pulled it out, only to find a collar, button placket, and parts of sleeves. We never really knew what happened, but suspected my Siamese cat, Faux Pas. He wouldn't tell. Years later I can link this with Bob's love of wool and have it make some sense.
Don't they train Greyhounds with bunnies?
Our male Rottweiler that passed away recently had been allowed to run free and catch bunnies (before he came to us). When he moved in with us, he would sit inside the French doors and watch the bunnies in our yard and cry like a baby. Guess those bunnies are pretty good stuff!
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