Blanketing Baby

If you are a kitty, being a year old doesn't really make you much more than a kitten.  I suppose if you do the math and translate it into people years, you could probably drive or demand a bigger allowance.  But I don't think that either of those courses of action would work out all that well in the long run.  You'd still be pretty young and not really ready to operate a motor vehicle with any skill or manage your money responsibly.

I've had older cats since before forever so it's been an adjustment having a toddler about the house.  The conversation level has changed dramatically.  I used to say stuff like, "Hey, wake up!  It's time to eat your Tartar Control/Extra Fiber/Joint Enhancing Food."  Now I find myself chatting with the household felines about other things.  For example:

(Just after the lights are turned on for the evening) Um...sweetums?  That's your shadow.  There is no way you are going to be able to dig it out of the carpet.

(To the Big, Fluffy Kitty as we cower in disbelief on the sofa) Well, why don't you just go tell him that's his tail and that catching it isn't going to bring him the happiness he thinks it will?

(After stumbling out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to investigate that crash which indicates something has been flung from the kitchen counters) Wha...Oh dear God NO!  Not the brownies!!!!  Anything but that!!!!!!!!!!!

(While holding a squirming three thousand pound baby who still has the strand of yarn firmly clenched between his teeth) I haven't finished it yet!  You can have the blankie when I am done with it!!!

(While holding a squirming three thousand pound baby who still has the strand of computer cord firmly clenched between his teeth)  Just because it has an apple on it doesn't mean you can eat it!!!

Then there is my personal favorite.  It goes something like:  

That is most certainly not the appropriate way to use the Deluxe Kitty Bed!

It was this last display of blatant immodesty that convinced me I needed to finish that kitty blankie.  Someone in this house needs to get his head around the concept of "too much of a good thing."  Until Prometheus learns a little bit about dignity, I shall have to have something close to hand which can be flung over him should company arrived without notice.

So, I broke the seal on my new copy of Cemetery Man, settled in with yarn and hooks and prepared to multi-task.  I could spend the afternoon watching the latest in my series of Zombie Invasion Preparedness Training Films while finishing up the baby's blankie.

For those who are interested in these sorts of things, CM is a rather artsy sort of film in which the living dead are a bit secondary to the plot.  I like to think of it as a cautionary tale to anyone who tries to get all "oh, it's just my job, la-de-dah" about the Walking Dead.  It is not going to turn out well.  Yes, it is fine and dandy to continue to try and find love in this crazy, mixed up world.  But you gotta stay true to the mission if you want to keep your sanity.  Although the scene where Dellamorte (Rupert Everett) is chastising the town's mayor for his undead behavior by telling him that he should be setting a better example is really quite humorous.  And let's face it, if the seventies and early eighties are any indication, no one can push the limits of the horror genre like the Italians.  Even I have found myself saying, "Well, that's going a little far, I must say!" during my many years of viewing these movies.

The blankie was hooked faithfully throughout this training session and edged before the third attempt at killing The Lady Who Kept Coming Back.  The movie was paused in order that the baby could be coaxed out of his most embarrassingly inappropriate sleeping pose to pass blankie judgement. 

The first investigation did not result in the rave reviews for which I'd hoped.  But, to be fair, he'd just woken up.

After he was settled on the love seat and resting upon the scraggly towel that once covered the bottom of his shelter kennel, a second attempt was made.

This one went a bit better...although he still seems unsure.

We'll keep at it.  If nothing else, I will have something to use as a shield between my tender eyes and the nether regions of my free spirited feline.  That is a perfectly good use of leftover acrylic yarn, in my humble opinion.

And now I must bid you all Good Evening.  The drizzly skies have darkened further and the timer which controls the living room lights has decided that it is time for illumination.  The shadows now lurk.

And I have to go protect the carpet.

SA