It took me years to convince my husband Ken that I needed a cat. Whenever he asked what I wanted for a birthday, anniversary, Valentine, or Christmas, I was automatically answer a cat. Everything else was a second choice. Finally on my 50th birthday, he said he would get me either a new car or a cat. I chose the cat.
Now, before you pick up your mouth from the floor, there was a method to my madness. If I picked the car, I would never get a cat. If I said I wanted a cat, Ken would remind me that I picked my Prius over a cat, and I would be without a cat forever. However, if I picked a cat instead, I would still get a new car. It’s not like we can do without a car.
So here it is a few years later, and I have both a car and my mean little kitty, Neko, and Ken realizes he can’t out-think his wife. I am now sitting here in my armchair with my knitted afghan with a fluffy little kitty in my lap. Ha!
However, not is all sunshine and cat fut. I still don't have a cat. Neko is Ken's cat, not mine. More on that later.
Back to the needles.
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