Almost the only hand knits that my darling husband truly appreciates are the felted clogs that have been famous in the knitting world for the last ten or fifteen years. I put the leather soles on them, and until this morning he was on his second pair, worn daily in the winters over the last ten years or so. That’s a petty good track record for any knit, in my opinion.
This morning I woke up to a steam of cursing and a temper tantrum worthy of the best…well I’d better not finish that sentence – he does read this sometimes. Fred had chewed a hole right through the heel of one. Time to go buy some Brown Sheep and knit a few new pairs for the whole family, I guess.
As punishment for leaving his slippers where the dog can get them and then trying to blame said known-to-destroy dog for what happened next, I am publishing sad-face morning pictures for the world to see.