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Archive for October 28th, 2014

It’s been awhile since Yarn Rascal last snagged a Golden Paw Award, but he’s outdone himself once again.

Picture2

I was attempting to pull together the prototype of the 1960s baby girl sweater I’m designing. I had a small ball of merino wool (the perfect size to fit comfortably in Yarn Rascal’s mouth) cast on to a dpn to test run the placket construction. It was innocently sitting on the table next to my knitting chair. In my lap were the two halves of the sweater and a large ball of alpaca yarn attached to the front half of the sweater. I was trying to figure out why the front half of the sweater was a full 2 inches (5) cm longer from hem to the start of armhole shaping than the back half. I checked gauge, needle size, and strained my eyes to count each row. All to no end. I kept losing count after 10. I took my reading glasses off, closed my tired eyes, and laid my head back on the chair for a 5 minute time out during which I planned to pull myself together and do away with the vision of climbing onto the roof and jumping off.

The Yarn Rascal attack was almost instant. He jumped into my lap, snatched the small ball of merino into his mouth and then plastered himself to the front of me, his little front paws wrapped tightly around my neck. The plastering and wrapping is new behavior. Lately, when he has something in his mouth that he knows he shouldn’t have, he flattens himself against my chest and, like a human child, wraps his little front arms around my neck. In doing so, he places his head and mouth so far behind me that it is impossible to extract the thing from his mouth. When I try to reach back, his neck grows longer, as if he’s part giraffe, and I can’t gain access to his mouth. It’s a win-win situation for him. I adore the hug, and at the same time I feel terrible about taking whatever it is out of his little mouth. Thus, he ends up with it in his mouth a little longer.

In the meanwhile, his little back feet, nails and all, were dancing on the sweater halves and the ball of alpaca yarn in my lap. Now alpaca isn’t the type of yarn that can take heavy wear and tear. It tends to shed and shred when abused. So I lifted his adorable little back feet off my lap and swept everything to the floor. With Yarn Rascal clinging to my front like a bib, and the dpn needle dangling from the yarn down my back, I sought out The Skipper who prised my little darling loose and removed the wet yarn from his mouth. I then raced Yarn Rascal back to the living room throwing myself onto the knitting and yarn I had swept to the floor like a football player on a loose ball.

Finally, at the end of the evening I crawled into bed and found release from my aching lower back vowing never to throw myself on yarn like that again. I stared up at the ceiling took a deep, relaxing breath, released it, and heard the distinct crinkling sound of a yarn band still wrapped on a skein of yarn. My head snapped to the bedroom door and there he was, tail thumping in wild pleasure, an entire new skein of alpaca in his mouth. He opened and closed his smiling little jaws twice, the paper yarn band rustling. The chase was on.

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