Skrufy (named by my then 8-year-old daughter, for whom spelling was not a strong suit) was irresistibly attracted to yarn.  We figured that he believed yarn or any similar substance (string, ribbon, shoelaces, cord) was an EvilFurryWorm and must be killed immediately.  I was careful to hide all such things, but even though I kept an eye out for him when I was knitting, he committed countless drive-by severings in complete stealth.  I wouldn’t know until the end of the yarn came up soaked with kitty-spit!

I was taking photos of some of my recent knitting projects when I turned away briefly, probably to take a sip of coffee.  I turned back and, in a split second, decided the photo was more important than rescuing the knitting!  It turned out that Skrufy hadn’t done any damage.

Skrufy left us on December 1.  His grave is within the view from his favorite window, and his remains are wrapped in a scarf he “helped” me knit   :-}

Submitted by Yez