Emma Has Decided to Keep Her Sister

Probably they are littermates. It only took a week for Emma to start washing Gaia and playing with her. So she stays. Gaia is a talker. She beeps a lot. Very sweet and gentle. What a little love.

Gaia Has a Home

Gaia, one of my former alley cats, needed to be adopted. We kept her. Dad said, "It's up to Emma," and Emma loves her. Clearly she has been a pet before, and is very gentle and loving, even with strangers. She has chosen to cuddle up to Mom at every opportunity.

Painting Yarn

I worked all day yesterday hand painting a pound of worsted weight wool. I'll post better pics when it is dry. I was so eager to show it off last night I forgot to rinse it first, and did that this morning. I learned of the technique in an article by Nancy Roberts in Spin-Off Fall 2006. http://www.machineknittingtodyefor.com/ Turns out SHE heard of it in an article in in Threads in 1995 by Rebekah Younger. (Turns out this is Becky Younger, my sister's childhood friend.) http://youngerknits.com/ Anyhoo, you knit up the undyed yarn on a machine, dye it, then reknit into whatever you want. It gives you long sections of color impossible to do with a 60 or 72-inch hank. I'm thinking this wants to be either a lace stole or a sideways sweater.

Mia Mysteriously Reappears

You could knock me down with a feather.

Just got home from the alley. Who should come out to greet me but Miss Mia, as if she had never been gone. She looked healthy, but consumed two cans and some dry food. She did not comment on her last month's activities.

"Mia, where have you been?"

Bland complacent gaze. Silence.

I am guessing that someone took her in, and either let her out when they realized she was not eager to be domesticated, or, she escaped.

It may have taken her a day or two to get back to her old home territory.

I don't know what to expect tomorrow. But I am so relieved that she is not dead.

Mia is missing

It has been over a week since I have seen my Baby Siamese. I even checked the pound (Animal Care and Control) on Saturday. She's microchipped, so they would have called PAWS Chicago if she had been picked up.

She did not like anyone, but everyone wanted her because she's so pretty. The local folks think she is valuable even tho her parents are NOT Siamese. Perhaps someone lured her in. I don't want to imagine other scenarios, but I can't stop. Hit by car. Trapped in a garage or basement. Killed by dog. 

I truly hope someone took her in. Guess I'd better post some flyers with her picture.

Mia

This is Mia, who was trapped on Monday, spayed on Tuesday, released on Thursday. She hesitated a bit in the trap, then went into her walkway, then turned right around and came back for the regular feeding.

I'm really surprised she did not hide for two days after her horrible ordeal in my kitchen.

Saturday Feeding Time

Van Morrison, Emmett, Tommie Girl, Siamese, Evangeline, Ebony

Buttons

Gaia

Gaia and Guy

Emmett

Van Morrison

King of the Road

This is Guy, the fellow who bit me because I was stupid enough to corner him while he was here recovering from his neutering. He is the happiest outside cat I have ever known. From the moment he was released, we were friends again, and he still is the first to greet me when he sees my car.

Cats

Since my last post I have become the "caseworker" for a colony of alley cats. These photos are from 16 Nov 2008. We think these cats are two litters from Emma (formerly "Mama"), who is now the light of her new family's life.

Tommie Girl (we called her Tom until we found out she was a she)

Evangeline (formerly "Tom Too")

Siamese Kitten (will trap and name her next week), Big Black Kitten (Emmett), Small Black Kitten (Ebony), Baby Tom (Van Morrison)

knitting again at last

Finally cleared away enough space to resume work on The Thing. Borrowed yarn organizer technique from Susanna Hansson's  Mittens from Rovaniemi lecture.

What Not to Knit

Today's stop on Donna Druchunas' Kitty Knits Blog Book Tour.

When Donna asked me to blog about cats and knitting, the first thing that came to mind was the saga of Pussywillow and the Sweater.

Pussywillow was a tiny Oriental Shorthair, named after her toes, which looked and felt exactly like pussywillow catkins. Willow was an affectionate cat, usually good-tempered and only a little shy with strangers. Typical Siamese/Oriental personality. She had a brief show career, earning a name longer than she was: Champion Tombar’s Pussywillow of Mrp.

She often got cold in the show halls, and I decided to knit her a sweater. This was in the Olden Days, when I had no money. Most of my yarn was from Harriet's, the local “dime store,” and from its sale bin at that. I had some cheap acrylic sport weight in a harvest gold color with multicolor tweedy flecks in it. Nice contrast with the lavender/cream tortie colors of her fur. So I measured her, and designed a little sweater in a moss stitch pattern, and knit it up.

She endured this thing for exactly minus two seconds. This tiny mellow cat bit me in her frenzy to get the thing off before I'd finished putting it on her. I unraveled it.

I do not know what became of the yarn, but I do know that it is no longer a part of my collection. If it were, I would take a picture of it just to show you how hideous it was.

Pay no attention to the blonde behind the curtain

or, Why I Have Not Posted

On October 1, I found my father on the bathroom floor where he had fallen and was too weak to stand. The paramedics took him to the ER. He had internal bleeding that was not stopping. He was on warfarin therapy and had been taking an antibiotic that (unknown to me) potentiated its effects. His blood pressure was very low and he was dehydrated. I feared it was the end. Although he survived, this was the start of a series of adventures that took all my strength and then some.

Between my Dad's medical problems and my Mom's Alzheimer's, requiring 24/7 supervision, I did not touch a needle again until just before Christmas.

Things are more stable now, with the help of some wonderful folks from the Chicago Department on Aging's homemaking services and Vitas Hospice. I get some time to knit.

I started small -- some easy socks for myself, no brain strain. This soon escalated into adapting a simple sock pattern for part machine, part hand, and adjusting my ribber to meet the needs of the tight circle. I never did learn the KISS rule.

Oh, and I am not blonde any more. Photos soon.

C