So, Joel's cat has finally taken to me. I moved in a year ago, and I am so incredibly pleased that Doc-the-kitty has started voluntarily climbing into my lap to sleep and purr and be petted.
Doc is a great cat. Smart, funny, still running and jumping and playing like a kitten, even though he's an old man of nine years old, and beginning to go gray, like one of those silverback gorillas, except he's a silver-cravat kitty. He's got the mellowness of middle/old age, observant and critical, yet detached and cool. He rarely takes an interest in my knitting. I think he's batted at a moving ball of yarn maybe twice, and only because the yarn was already sitting next to him. He would never, say, cross a room to interfere with my knitting. Or bother yarn that is just sitting there not moving or attached to anything.
So I'm sure you can imagine my surprise (and not delight) to come home from work on Monday and discover a lovely ball of Knit One Crochet Too's Douceur et Soie on the floor, severed by little kitty-teeth from the swatch I was knitting. Sigh. That's a $30-a-ball cashmere and silk blend. I have no idea how much he ate. It could have been nothing, it could have been several yards.
I guess it's nice to know that our cat has good taste.