Plea from A Small Dog

Hi everyone,
You probably don't know me, but you may have noticed my picture in the corner of this blog. Yes, that's me. In a tangled mass of yarn. I promise, I didn't do it. And why I had my picture taken in the middle of it is beyond me. Someone's completely unwound — not gonna say who ...

So, my momma (she's the one who usually writes here) told me about this guy who lives with a sheep named Dolores and balls of sock yarn that sometimes write his blog for him. So I figured, if a chain-smoking sheep can write, why can't I? And besides there's something I have to say.

I don't get this whole yarn and knitting obsession. I mean, I've tried. I really have.

Of the needles I've chewed, I haven't found any that are particularly tasty. They all have a tendency to give me splinters and leave a wooden aftertaste. I haven't tried chewing any of the carbon ones yet. (I wonder where she's got those hidden.)

And yarn? Man that woman gets cranky when I want to play with it. It's not like I'm eating it — I'm just dragging it around the house and teasing the cats. I run with it, they pounce. Momma says we all need more exercise, but I'm not sure she means it. I think running and pouncing are exercise and I think it shows a level of cooperation between the furry people in the house. That didn't seem to persuade her either.

Don't even get me started on her knitting book collection. Not one has patterns that I find of interest. Seriously, aren't there books on how to knit sweaters for adorable little dogs who freeze in the winter? Why am I condemned to store bought fleece hoodies? I've seen how much yarn she has. She could knit me a sweater ... a lot of them! I promise that I probably won't run, dragging it through the house, the way I do my hoodies. Probably. And you know whatever she knits, I'm gonna make look good, even if it has bobbles! (I'm not sure I heard right, but I think she said something about finding a book that would show her how to make yarn with my fur — that's going a bit far, don't you think? I make a cute dog, not a cute sweater.)

There's this writer momma likes, the Yarn Harlot I think. Ms. Harlot wrote a piece, in her book, All Wound Up: The Yarn Harlot Writes for a Spin, comparing knitting to addiction. If I remember correctly, the conclusion was that knitters are near to being addicts. I find this disturbing. I realize we all have our vices. That big fat cat, Sam, seems to like his toys covered in catnip, and I will admit that if my slimy, stuffing-less caterpillar goes missing, I freak out a bit. But I think it's time momma just says NO to yarn before she ends up in rehab and is forced to knit with coffee stirrers and string she's spun out of lint from the dryer.

And the final straw? She leaves me so she can hang out with other knitting addicts who, instead of helping her on the road to recovery, only feed her habit. She thinks I don't know, but I see her sneak out of the house with her knitting paraphernalia. I know where she's going. And I don't like it one bit. If only I could make her see that the cure is staying home and playing with me. But the more I nag the faster she seems to leave the house. She keeps trying that trick of making me want to be quiet, but I'm on to her. It's going to take more than a milkbone to bribe me into silence.

I guess that's all I have to say now ... her needles have stopped clacking, so I'm guessing she'll be looking for me shortly. She gets all kinds of cranky when she catches me on the computer.

Please join me in the fight to save my momma from the merino lined rabbit hole she's headed down. There's a milkbone in it for you and I may let you play with my caterpillar.

Thanks for your support,
La Bella Luna 
(aka Luna, or if Mike's talking about me to momma, YOUR dog. I like Luna better.)