I had completed two thirds of my crochet sweater. I laid it on the sofa while I went to make a sandwich. The cat was outside, or so I thought.
When I returned the cat was sitting on my crochet having kindly kneaded it first. I retrieved it from beneath the cat to find that he had pulled the stitches across the entire width of the sweater.
Needless to say Toby is in the black books for now, and my sweater is in balls.
I think I'll look for a new pattern!
Bereavement wipes out everything


