Beading Cat

         Triangular points creating dimensional accents is the goal for the bracelet I am—I mean WAS—beading with Japanese cylinder beads.  Potosi, our three legged tabby cat is in the bead box, pawing at the needle, biting the needle, batting loose beads then sitting on the pattern  while batting loose objects off the table then looking to see where they have fallen then back to trying to get my beading needle or more specifically the beading wire.  Earlier in the day he chewed then swallowed the fireline beading wire between the completed part of the bracelet and the needle that was stuck into the bracelet with a new bead.  I extracted the string with a lot of bubbly slobber from his throat, cleaned it off and untangled it.  It was rough where he had bitten it making it difficult to thread the beads into position on the bracelet then it broke in one of the chewed and digested spaces necessitating the tedious business of tying two pieces of wire together as close as possible to the last bead placed in the bracelet.  The triangular points are looking fairly good but there are some rough spots in the in-between pattern.  That’s how it is with Potosi Puss.  His overall pattern of dark strips, white stocking and a half white nose looks pretty good --NOW.              Last June he was smashed on the roadway’s center stripe.  Blood oozed from his nose, mouth, eyes and ears. We laid he panting shivering mess  on the truck floor and went on to town assuming he would be dead by the time we finished lunch.  He was still breathing so we  took him home and put him in a basket.  He couldn’t or wouldn’t move. Periodically our big old Husky dog would tenderly pick him up and lay him between her paws. Next day  the kitten from Potosi Road was still alive moving a little more and periodically meowing. The Vet Clinic said he probably had a broken back but that we could bring him in and they would put him to sleep at no charge. On the way to town we saw what appeared to be one of his litter mates mashed flat on the road near where ‘our Potosi’ had been.    By the time we got to the Vet’s office we had decided that if Potosi could be saved we would keep the scruffy little fighter.  The vets fussed over the skinny pound  of rumpled fur stretched over bones and figured he was about 7 weeks old. His lip was skewered onto his canine tooth; he had ear mites, the radial nerve in his left front leg was paralyzed and he probably had a concussion.   For a week he lay in the basket limp as recent death but tenaciously hung on to life.     In two weeks he had gained a pound and hopefully had enough strength  for surgery. Potosi was neutered and had his left leg and an inch of his tail amputated.  By the next day the little survivor was batting a ball around his cage.       

       Now he is nine months old, moves like a kangaroo with his back legs working in unison to propel him forward, often lands on his chin,  needs help grooming the left side of his face, ‘works’ around the farm, climbs trees, has taken an active interest in ornithology and computers, and helps with beading projects.     Now where was I on that beaded bracelet?