The mess was everywhere. As I entered the living room, I could see the first indications that someone had suffered an ignoble end. Two steps in, it was clear.
Yarn Ball was dead.
His innards were strewn across the room. His tail was caught in the Velcro of my laptop charger. Poor Yarn Ball.
As we know from The Princess Bride, though, there is a difference between dead dead and just mostly dead. Would true love bring him back?
I went about fixing him. I rerolled him faster, stronger.
Obi seemed happy. Then, about an hour later, The Boy walked into the room. “Oh noes,” he said. “The yarn ball isn’t a ball anymore.”
It was true.
I looked at Obi. Suspicious. Suddenly, what is assumed was kitten-slaughter seemed more like murder.
The Boy started trying to fix Yarn Ball. After realizing he’d never rolled a ball of yarn in his life and that it’s not as easy as he thought, he handed Yarn Blob to me.
With a kiss to the ears, I set the brown suspect free and tossed Yarn Ball to the floor.
We’ll see how this story unravels in coming days.
Kitten Thunder: Life lessons and cat tales 