Old-Fashioned Fruitcake
Once upon a time there was a woman called Anna Margaretta Brereton, and she had ten children.
One by one, five of her children died. After the loss of her fifth child, she withdrew to her chamber and began to sew. She cut, she basted, she pieced, she appliquéd, she embroidered.
She hand-sewed not only a full, sweeping bedspread for a four-poster bed, but all the drapes and hangings to go with it.
(besides the fact that it isn’t really a word.)
Let us suppose for a moment, that, like Horatio Nelson, you lose the use of your dominant hand.
Rule ONE. VERY IMPORTANT. Do not allow other cats to bite you in the bum.
Either learn to fight, or learn to run. Because humans are uptight beings, and if they find a sizeable hole in your hindquarters that did not appear in the original design, you will be shoveled into the Box of Illimitable Dread and this will happen:
