Someone save me from myself

I have mocked knitblog posts about cats for years. They're a cliche. Plus nobody cares about your cat (even though you care very much).

But I keep caving. Maybe when Orville is no longer a kitten (and no longer does crazy schtuff) I'll be able to control myself.

Here's the deal.

I was spinning some of this luscious roving into some thick yummy yarn to knit yet another cowl with. So I decided to do a little photo shoot with the roving, the singles, and the final plied product.

Here's the beginning of said photo shoot:



And then, Orrie jumps up on the table and grabs the roving (not the yarn, the roving):



And totally makes off with it before I can take another shot of my still-life-with-yarn.



STINK pot. I have to keep all of my fiber arts work under a blanket on a table. He inevitably ends up sleeping right in the middle, like a nest. But at least he's not chewing holes through my yarn and shredding my roving.