Until yesterday, Cinnamon had never bothered any of my fiber. (She used to attack the drop spindle when it was in motion, but that’s different.)
It started when I was winding off yarn into cakes. She took offense. I do not know why.
Don’t tell her the yarn is for baby bird nests. She was quite the efficient hunter in her outdoor years. I’m sure she killed and ate countless baby birds in that time.
(In North America, cats kill up to 3.7 billion birds a year and up to 20 billion small mammals.)
When I didn’t respond to her chilling glares, she started biting the yarn as I was trying to wind it.
I finally gave up and started a play session with her. (I never respond to cat interruptions with food – that way lies disaster.) After about 10 minutes she was tired out. I opened her favorite window, she settled in at her viewing spot, and I was able to finish work.
But later that night, she assaulted my giant ball of Romeldale fiber. (It was originally a one-pound ball, but I’ve spun some off, so it’s less than that now.) It has been sitting in a tote bag on the floor right out there in the open for at least a month without the slightest hint of feline interest.
Until last night, when she reached in, grabbed a mouthful, and pulled it out, like a kid trying to eat cotton candy. She had this crazed expression, as if she were finally fulfilling some kind of lifetime wish that had only materialized in her head ten seconds before.
Bad kitty! WOOL IS NOT FOR EATING.