Two years ago my beloved Skeeter got cancer and died. I never mentioned it here or anywhere else online because I was too sad, because the world is too shitty, because I was sick to death of the internet and putting anything personal on it. Then maybe a month later a friend told me that her relative, whom I’ve never met, made a comment to her that I didn’t seem too broken up about my cat dying. That comment, received at a time when I was pretty broken up about my cat dying, actually, put me into a slow simmer that eventually ended in my taking myself off all social media, forever. And I’m a lot happier and healthier for it, so thank you, shitty person I’ll never meet!
Skeeter was the most difficult cat we’ll ever live with: sweet, loving, and stupid, crippled by anxiety and a bully to our other cat, who wasn’t too broken up at her disappearance from our home. We gave her a safe place to be herself and we loved her (and tried to keep her off the other cat’s back).
Skeeter was a great lover of textiles, so here’s a little collection of her coziest moments.
Here she is blocking a shawl.
She’s helping sew a heraldic banner (vairy gules and or).
Casually slipping her claws into a crocheted afghan my mum made for my Gramma.
In the printmaking studio drying rack.
She loved this rug so much I had to take off its fringe and stitch a clear vinyl binding strip over its edges to protect them.
Here she is basting a quilt.
Her last picture.