The Knitting Fiend

Some of you have probably noticed blogging was light last week. This was due, in part, to working on the new template, and in part to running errands after visiting my Dad, but… oh my, what a week!

Here’s the run down:

1. Wednesday: Poor Ol’ Max, my in-laws nineteen year old adopta-cat passed away. Max originally belonged to my in-laws neighbors, but he didn’t like their dog, or their other cat. So, he hunted around for better digs. He learned to sit in my in-laws window, and eventually pushed his way in the house. He won his way into their hearts and ours.
2. Thursday: Our 21st Wedding anniversary. Whoo hoo! Also, mother-in-law, Rosie’s 85^th birthday. I prepared a big dinner for Jim, Rosemary, Pappa-Jim and me. We gorged, drank wine and celebrated.

   Jim bought both ladies roses both roses. I cut peonies. We had a blast.

   There was one ominous note. Rosemary mentioned Max bit her the day before when they had bundled the poor sick, suffering cat up to transport him to the vet. He’d never bit before, but he had been in so much pain!

3. Friday: Rosemary’s arm inflated like a balloon. Pappa-Jim took her to the emergency room at 5 am, but didn’t call us to let us know until 2 pm. Hubby-Jim took off work early; we went to the hospital. Rosemary’s arm was red and swollen; the doctors had outlined the bad parts in pen. She was hooked up to an IV.
   Naturally, Rosemary was still sad about Max and got teary at the thought he was gone. We discussed the funeral; Jim, Robert and David agreed to make a coffin and bury Ol’ Max.
4. Saturday: My mom visited and we planted flowers while Jim, Robert and David made a cat coffin. When it was done, we all went to my in-laws. Robert and David dug hole; Pappa-Jim took pictures as we buried Max. Jim recited Robert Louis Steven’s Requiem:
   

   Under the wide and starry sky,
   Dig the grave and let me lie.
   Glad did I live and gladly die,
   And I laid me down with a will.

   This be the verse you grave for me:
   Here he lies where he longed to be;
   Home is the sailor, home from sea,
   And the hunter home from the hill.

5. Sunday: In the morning, Rosemary’s swelling was down, see in photo to right. The area inside the black outline isn’t totally puffed up or flame red! They doctors let her out at 3 pm. We went to Robert and David’s and has a “Rosemary has been sprung from the pokie” celebration! (Kabobs, corn, chocolate cake, salad, and, of course, wine!)
6. We all still miss ol’ Max.