Hound yarn

When it comes to hobbies, I’m sort of a “jack of all trades, master of none”. I sew, knit, crochet, bead, quilt, cross stitch, garden and write. I’ve tried my hand at stained glass, building bird houses, painting and jewelry making. My greyhounds are there every step of the way. If I’m in my craft room (where cushy dog beds cover the floor) they are there. If I am in the office writing, they are jockeying for the bed closest to me. If I am in front of the family room television doing needlework (which is the only way I can stand TV), I am surrounded by dogs. They particularly TV time because they are allowed on the family room furniture.

The couch is a sectional, a behemoth of a thing, so it fits the whole family – now that the kids have moved on. Brent is the anchor, always sitting in the recliner on the end where he has the best view of the game (most any kind of game that involves a ball). Frosty loves the spot right next to Brent (she’d actually sit in his lap if he’d let her) with her head in his lap or on the keyboard of his laptop which, as you can imagine, causes some issues. I’m typically in the corner spot and Arlo is next, where he can put his nose and feet into the middle of whatever I’m working on. And Tory is on the other end where she has the arm of the couch for a headrest. We each have our own little blanket for cold weather … or gas. Greyhound owners need no further explanation.

So last evening I’m in my corner spot. The Jets and the Patriots are on the big screen. The pups, delighted about this family time, were doing their part holding the couch down. My project of the moment is a crocheted baby blanket for Sarah, a young friend who will have her first child in January. On my right is Arlo’s back half. On my left is Frosty with her head in my lap. All is right with the world.

And then it starts. Arlo is on the racetrack. He’s yipping and running, obviously about to take over first place. His lips are quivering, his tail is swishing and occasionally he lands a bruising kick to my thigh - and manages to get his toenails caught in my project. Gently (I wouldn’t want him to lose the race) I extract my blanket from between his toes and scoot over just a hair.

Peace is restored. I’m crocheting along and then Frosty starts to twitch. The yarn that runs from the ball on the floor to my needle is across her nose and tickles her with every stitch. Before I can move it, up comes her front paw in a kitty-cleaning-its-ears move. Now she is caught up in my project. Sighing, I carefully extract my blanket from her claws and my yarn from around her ear. I manage a couple more rows before I give up.

Our lives would be so mundane without our crafty greys. I’m just glad the new mom also loves greyhounds – this blanket is bound to have a little hair-o-greyhound embedded in it for they are, indeed, part of everything we do.

Frosty, Arlo and Tory