This morning started with the thrill of the chase. Calvin, who we found one day as a teeny tiny kitten, has grown into quite the cat. Today was the second day this week that he had a mouse. Hobbes, who died in January at the ripe old age of 19, was a suberb mouser. He would catch and kill them with little drama and minimal mess. Calvin, on the other hand, has less finesse. It sounds like a herd of buffalo running through the house. This morning I began to realize that for him it was more about the chase than the end result. I thought about how knitters describe themselves. Process versus Product.
This guy?
He’s a process mouser.
I knit alone 