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Don't Rip Back in Anger

15/09/2023, edited 22/09/2023

Word Count: 580

It took me two years, nine skeins, and many, many long hours to finish this cape I never wore. Okay, maybe I threw it on once or twice for a night-time snack run, but that was it. It was big, and heavy, and it hung weird and the collar just never sat right.

And everybody loved it.

Even I thought it was, technically, an impressive cape. Moss stitch borders and button bands, intricate tapering cables, and various stitch patterns that when buttoned up fell right below my knees. It was an impressive cape.

Yet the cape, in its finished state, was cumbersome and unflattering, and never fully closed. I laundered it, twirled around in it, even added a bit of twill tape to the top to hopefully fix the drape of the collar and… I didn’t like it. So it sat, for months, unloved and occasionally thrown aside in frustration as I looked to find something on the same coat hanger, below it.

The other day, I decided I wanted something else. I sat down and sketched something shorter, lighter, and in a style I would actually be able to reach into my bag while wearing. Something that wasn’t so physically and emotionally heavy: you see, I cast this project on the month after my partner moved in with their cat, Patty, and watched over my needles as Patty’s health declined. We lost her early this year. I think the grief of losing her and the memories we shared sitting side by side as I worked on it and she idly dozed off like spoiled house cats tend to do, added about ten pounds to the cloak every time I tried it on.

I didn’t undo it then, in February when I finally cast off. It sat until April when I finally added the buttons and tacked the tape to the neckline. And then it was moved to that coat hanger, where it sat until today, a warm September afternoon when I decided to lay it in my lap and pull it back for material, to become a better version of itself. It’s only now that I’ve connected the two, the long hours spent making this cloak and hoping I’ll like it, and the nights spent wondering if maybe, just maybe, this time Patty would get better.

Two cats sitting in the sun. The one on the left is a mottled brown and orange, and the one on the left is a brown tabby. Behind the cat on the left a knitting bag is visible. — CAT TAX: Patty is the girl on the left, and the little guy on the right is Hershey. You can actually see my knitting bag right behind Patty's little head.

I was even hesitant to pull it apart today, but now it sits frogged, balled, and contained in a tidy little bag, I’m relieved. I don’t know if there’s an analogous feeling to my life with Patty. I just know as I sat an unwound, I wasn’t angry at the cloak, or at myself then for devoting so much time and effort and money into it, or for all the cat hairs I had to pluck out both while working on it over the years and now unravelling it. Maybe that’s what it is, that I made sure to pull myself back and not be too hard on myself for all the effort, time, and money I put towards Patty’s vet appointments and medications and everything that made her last days at least comfortable. She was worth it all.

I’m sure as I make the yarn back into something else, her little brother will bite at it and rub his face all over my hands as I work. He’s always been a little more of a hands-on supervisor.

Much love, look after yourselves and each other, especially your little furry ones.

Cheers,

Bear.

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