Furry Friends |Knitting by Judy @ 9:41 PM

Molly Bag
Molly Bag

This is Molly. Alice at Tangle order her for me from Lantern Moon and I picked her up at Thursday Night Knitting.

Isn’t she lovely? The fabric is a raw silk blend. It comes in blue, red or orange. All have the lime green lining.

Really, this is one of the coolest knitting bags I’ve ever had. It’s circular in its basic construction, with a inside large enough to hold a medium-sized project. But the way that the lining is sewn in creates 4 pockets around the outside that are each large enough for a small project, or some notions, or the odd ball of yarn, or… a snack, I guess, or whatever. The main compartment includes a zippered pocket and a larger pocket that could be used for a cell phone or maybe a few needles. It has two adjustable straps that are just the right length. And it’s not leaning on anything. It stands up on its own.

I immediately started stuffing in all of my current carry-around projects. In the pocket on the left, the Salish Sea Socks. In the main compartment, Wings Of A Dream. Hiding in the shadows, you can just see Lenore peeking out of the pocket on the right. The remaining two pockets so far are empty.

I’m in love.

you want me to eat what?
you want me to eat what?

In kitty news, Phoebe is feeling a lot better. She has been on medication since last week, and I can tell it’s having the intended results.

Phoebe has never been sick a day in her 15 years, so giving her pills is interesting. I am an experienced kitty-pill-giver, thanks to Kidd. But, regardless, poking a tiny pill past the sharp teeth of a creature who doesn’t want to swallow said pill and is objecting strenuously with said teeth and a myriad of sharp, spiky claws can be… an adventure.

My vet suggested a wondrous invention called Pill Pockets. These are little goodies that are about the consistency of Play Doh but presumably better flavored. The center is hollow. One simply drops the pill inside, squooshes the end closed and hands it to the designated pet, who, in theory, chomps it down with great relish, never noticing that they’ve been medicated. No mess, no fuss, no angry pets.

The package I bought said chicken on the front. They smelled vaguely meat-like, if not particularly chicken-ish. I dropped a pill in the center and squooshed it closed. I handed it to Phoebe who chomped it down with great relish. This, I thought to myself, is the best thing since sliced bread.

Well… that worked OK for awhile. Then the medication began to work, and Phoebe’s appetite began to diminish. She began to get better at eating the treat from around the pill, and leaving the offending bit on the floor. This is a tiny, tiny little atom of medication about the size of a pin head. How she knows it’s there amongst the vaguely chicken-flavored Play Doh is anybody’s guess. But she does.

Thus began the second stage of the medication cold war.

I will never pretend to understand what goes on in the minds of any of the cats that live with me. Phoebe is willing to let me come near to pet her. As soon as I pick her up, she starts to meow and protest, but she doesn’t fight me. She just wants me to know that she’s not happy. I plop her on the counter in the kitchen, scoop a tiny little pill from the bottle and toss it down her throat (with some protest but, fortunately not drawing blood). I am, as I mentioned before, well versed in the art of getting a cat to swallow something he or she does not want to swallow.

Now, here’s the part I don’t understand.

If I let go of Phoebe at that point, allowing her to “escape,” she will go into hiding, cower in corners and refuse to either speak to me or accept goodies from me the rest of the day. I’m her worst enemy. If, however, I lift her from the counter and place her gently on the floor at my feet, she will wait right there in besotted anticipation while I get a treat out and give it to her. I’m her best friend.

Detente has been reached.



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  • Thought of the Minute
    • The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.

      (John Stuart Mill)
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