The Amazing Knitting Cat
By Glenn A. Hascall
Get the real story on what happened after the kittens lost their mittens
and the ensuing difficulties that began when one kitten decided to remove
his mittens for a game of tetherball. A monologue from one of the family
members who owned the amazing knitting cat.
LAWRENCE: Hello, my name is Lawrence - well most people call me Larry -
or Lars - although I'm not sure why they do that. I've kept a secret for
far too long and I'm here to set the record straight. You see I was there
when it all happened. It was horrible - and to think, if the truth
had been told at the beginning things would be different for me now.
It all started several years ago when our cat, Gertrude, discovered
that she could knit. Oh, the wonderful stockings she made for my sister,
Jane. Mom and Dad enjoyed scarves made by Gertrude. I received a pot holder
- I'm still trying to work through that one. My brother Phil never received
anything from Gertrude. Perhaps it was the way he was prone to practical
jokes, or maybe it was an honest mistake, but everyone seemed to be focused
on the amazing knitting cat and not on 'knitless Phil'. There was even
the opportunity to have Gertie - that's what we called her - go on national
television and show off her unusual skill. (Thoughtful) We never really
did refer to what she did as a stupid pet trick. I mean, what she did was
amazing - in a parallel universe kind of way.
That's when we discovered the Gertie had been putting on a little weight
- OK a lot of weight. She was getting huge. We thought she might be spending
too much time knitting so we took her to a Feline diet club and had her
walking the tread mill and lifting weights until she confided to my mother
that she was - in the family way. She was with kitten as we liked to call
Well, the next thing you know Gertie was making several of the smallest
mittens I have ever seen in my life. If it weren't for the thumb pieces
I would have believed they were hats for the destitute mice that showed
up at our door looking for a handout only to have the bajebers scared out
of them at the sight of Gertie the sumo cat. But no - they were mittens
for her new offspring. Gertie actually made just three sets of mittens
which presented a problem after the birth of Louie, John John, Betsy, Erma,
Candice and Venus Flytrap - strange character that Venus Flytrap.
Those little kits - we liked to call them kits - just loved those mittens,
they wouldn't leave them behind - Gertie wouldn't let them. They were born
in the late spring and yet they still wore those mittens when they went
out to play tennis, shuffleboard or pinball - Gertie insisted on it.
One day John John was playing tetherball with Erma when he decided
that his hands were getting kinda sweaty - so he took the mittens off.
Wouldn't you know it, the game ended and Erma convinced John John that
one day He'd get the hang of it. One by one those mitten wearing kits shed
those homemade gloves like a snake with bad skin. They discovered that
they could walk a whole different way. They had every intention of bringing
the mittens home, but in the end everyone thought someone else was bringing
That's what they thought.
What they didn't understand and what Gertrude didn't know for years
was that my brother Phil had decided to steal the mittens and place them
in his sock drawer. It seemed he wanted to see what sort of trouble the
kittens would get into - and what trouble he could stay out of.
Sure enough, Gertie referred to her offspring as "naughty kittens"
who willingly and with great zeal lost their mittens - possibly with great
purpose and intent. They were told they could forget about having any homemade
pie. Some of the more sensitive ones wept openly while others just couldn't
figure what the problems was. I mean, it wasn't like they had lost their
milk money or anything really bad. Just mittens that really were out of
season and would be too small by winter. Not a big loss, right - WRONG!
Gertie howled and screamed until the police arrived and took her report.
She described the mittens down to the last detail - color, general size,
total number of stitches - or are they called knits? Oh, one thing I should
mention is that if you've ever seen a kitten walk with their feet covered
it's sort of like watching a Jerry Lewis movie - ANY Jerry Lewis movie.
(Demonstrate the following if you like) Their little legs are bouncing
up in the air as if they had stepped on a hot tin roof.
Maybe Phil thought he was doing those little kit's a favor, but when
law enforcement got involved, Phil worked overtime to cover up the sins
of his most recent past. When I saw him take the mittens out of the sock
drawer in an effort to move the evidence to a more secure location.
I confronted him. That's why I have been in the witness protection
But today, after all these years I want to set the record straight.
The kittens had absolutely nothing to do with the loss of their mittens
and Phil has apologized to both Gertie, her husband Club Foot - don't ask
- and my parents.
The kits are full grown and have actually - although confidentially
- thanked Phil for swiping the mittens. They seem to feel that his childhood
act of kleptomania may have saved them from years of foot reflex psychological
therapy. Although Phil did spend the better part of Tuesday in time out
- which was kind of odd for a man his age.
So I guess all's well that ends well. All - that is - except Gertrude
who has given up the knitting and now spends hours on end with our family's
television remote looking for that elusive network geared to the specific
needs of the modern feline eating bon bons. She also continued to receive
royalty checks for a story that was written about her mitten making experiences
of yesteryear. She no longer needed to knit - but she still refused to
I've thought an awful lot about this - and I've concluded that this
whole mess could have been avoided if 6 not-so-naughty kittens would have
just told their mother the truth - wearing mittens is a stupid thing for
kittens to do. I mean you never saw Gertrude wearing mittens - their friends
never had to wear mittens. And if Club Foot hadn't been wearing mittens
he might still be called Roy and I wouldn't have had to switch addresses
every few months if my brother Phil would have just fessed up to his part
in this little escapade. The cops thought for a long time that a hit cat
might try to find me, thinking that I might have seen the mitten heist.
I still keep my eyes pealed for tough looking tom cats and I'm not sure
how Phil convinced me of that fairy tale.
Maybe it's all for the best, I can finally see my parents again and
I've met a nice girl and we're getting married next year. (Happy) And the
good news is she's allergic to cats. (Sad) The bad news - now I'm in therapy.
Copyright 2004 by Glenn A. Hascall
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