I am very sad to report the death of one of our beloved "Threats to the Thread."
Our dear friend Mr. Cat died this summer after his liver collapsed.
Harriet and I picked Mr. Cat up at the Animal Refuge League in Westbrook when both he and Harriet were 2 years old. I always liked to say he picked *us*. I'll never forget standing in the shelter's "cat room" wondering how on Earth I was supposed to select a cat from the hundreds that needed homes when a black cat came running down a ramp and meowed. The toddler in my arms leaned toward the cat, and the cat stretched over and licked her cheek. "We'll take that one!" I said, pointing at the black cat. He and Harriet grew up together, and I heard her call him her best friend many times.
He was kind of skinny when we got him, but he grew into a handsome, fat, squishy, lovable cat. He really disliked a certain standard poodle, but was very affectionate to everyone else and we forgave him his intense interest in our knitting projects.





