Thursday, March 25, 2010

I Didn't Know You Could Milk A Cat

We had a lot of animals growing up.  Most of them found us rather than we finding them.  One of these animals was a black calico cat with a white star on her forehead we named Isis. She was a tiny little thing- not malnourished (plenty o-mice in the barn), but just a very small, dainty cat.  She lived in our barn and, for whatever reason, not only was she not afraid of humans, she actually liked them.  From the day we met her, she would let us not only approach her, but also pet and pick her up. However, she only liked us humans on her terms and on her the barn.  We tried bringing her to our porch where we kept the cat food for our own cat- a tom named Tasha (short for Taj Mahal- based on the size of the presents he left in his litter box). She would let us pick her up and carry her anywhere, but she would run like the wind back to the barn every time we brought her to the porch. 

Well, eventually Isis figured out that if she wanted to be lazy pampered and, instead of hunting for those stupid mice, eat the food given by the strange human masseuses that visited her in her barn, then she should deign to allow them to carry her in her litter (ha! punny!) and feed her on the porch of their her new house.  Tasha was not pleased.  He started out as an indoor cat but, due to his love of the outdoors, eventually became an outdoor cat.  However, since he knew he was an aristocratic "indoor" cat, he would wait patiently for his food to be served at meal times.  He would not knock the lid off of the food and just dig right in like other barn-raised lowlifes he could name.  The prince would wait for his human slaves to serve him in his ever so proper pie pan like the regal feline he was.  Isis would see him eat and try to join in, but he would growl at her and would block her at every turn until he was done.  When he was done, he, being the master of the house, would then knock the pie pan over and bury any food that he did not eat.  He sure showed her!  Eh.  Why wait for the slaves when she knew where the food was stored?  Off the lid for the food would go and in Isis would jump to eat to her heart's content. 

We were sad that our sweet little Tasha (ok, truth be told, only I found him sweet- I'm some sort of cat whisperer- they love me) would never like the newest addition to our household.  Everybody loved Isis.  She was the type of cat that would let you pick her up and fold her up and play her like an accordion.  She didn't care- she was just so chill.  Well, we soon found out Tasha did indeed like Isis....during certain times of the month....

A few weeks after Tasha succumbed to Isis' charms, we noticed she started getting....plumper.  Since she was such a small cat, her swollen pregnant belly was a very comical sight to behold as it would swing from side to side as she sauntered around the yard.  A few weeks later, we were able to observe firsthand the miracle of birth.  First came out a black kitten, just like Tasha.  Then another black kitten.  Then...2 orange and 2 white kittens.  That slut. 

We saw as she raised and nurtured those adorable mewling little balls of fur with the closed eyes and minuscule ears. We also noticed how they would nurse- kneading their mother's milk filled teats- and would cringe at thought of how painful it must have been.  She would still swing from side to side when she sauntered, but it was no longer a pregnant belly that was carried with the momentum.  (There may have been mention of a Feline Miracle Nursing Bra once or twice, but I can't be sure.) However, she would just purr in contentment as she raised her family.  Ahhh....the miracle of life. 

I was reminded of Isis and her brood today as I was working on a new design.  No, not the bag that made me giggle and blush from two days ago- I mean, I am working on that one, too, but this one ninja kicked that one out of the queue tonight while I was watching a movie- Coco Avant Chanel.  I'm not done watching it yet- my Mister is on the phone with his sister, so it's paused.  Gave me enough time to grab some wool and my hook and away I go!

Anywho...I'm loving this design and it's making me entirely too happy.  It'll be the first time I've worked with bobbles, thus the first time I'll felt bobbles.  I'm starting out with a swatch to see if I even have the concept down correctly.

Yay me!  I am loving the spacing of the bobbles and can picture the texture they'll make once felted.

See? Nice and texture-y and bobble-y.  Hopefully it will make a beautiful finished bag.  I'm really excited about it and showed it to my sis.  She saw.....this:

  Ah.....the miracle of the deranged mind.  Just don't let Gaylord Focker near him, sis.

(ETA:  It's later in the evening and I'm re-reading my post. My Mister is no longer on the phone and is now ready for bed.

My Mister:  Honey!!! Hurry up and come to bed!!
Me:  Hold on!  I'm re-reading to make sure I don't look stoopid with any misspellings or grammatical errors.
Mister:  What?!?  You are the one who just put boobies on a cat- what do you think you look like?!?

I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Argh.  He has a point....)


  1. Hehe! I swear- the FO will NOT resemble anything close to cat boobies; however, instead of my "Chanel Bag" this may be cursed with the name of "Cat Boobie Bag." Thanks a lot, Sis...