Two different friends (from the same New Mexican bookstore) gave me Knit Your Own Cat and Knit Your Own Dog in the last year. The books, by Sally Muir and Joanna Osborne, are quite adorable. I haven't made anything from them yet, but this is the year for it: along with making myself a pair of socks, I plan to master gauge.
Crazier words have not been spoken; I know there are knitters and crocheters who've studied their crafts for years and not been able to do the same. My problem, I think, is just that I haven't devoted the time to it yet. And how better to start, than with something tiny that will be both adorable and useful in the end?
(Okay, I made up the bit about usefulness. But I'm going for gauge here, most importantly, and usefulness can be overrated. It's time I knit something fun.)
Each book has instructions on how to choose yarn, stuffing technique, making whiskers, and special stitches; I plan to read these in full before I choose which pattern to make. But I'll likely choose a cat, because they're on my brain lately. Now that we're in our new place, we don't have to make a $150 deposit just to allow something to shed on our furniture, so we're hoping to get a cat. Which is probably why I had this dream the other night...
My mom had just moved into a new home in the Madison area. For some reason, my sisters and I were spending the night there too. In one corner of the house, I discovered a very friendly, very emaciated kitten, covered with burrs, knotted hair, and fleas.
It was a little grey thing, with a faded blue collar and the softest fur, despite not being brushed or cared for (or fed) in ages. Someone had clearly abandoned it, and the only appropriate response was to love it and pet it and name it George. Or Georgina.
Only problem was, at some point I lifted the little guy and held it up to the light. The light went straight through it, and it was like looking at an X-ray: all of the cat's ribs were clearly detailed. Only one problem - I was pretty sure cats were supposed to have organs, and I didn't see any.
My sleeping brain just thought that meant it needed to eat; the organs had shrunk due to malnutrition, and would grow back to normal size once it received love and nourishment. That, or it was a zombie creature.
In other words, my subconscious is weird. And I want a cat.