Hello. Hanna here.
No, Hanna does not have a second H. It’s short for Sesquahanna, so don’t get it wrong. Yes, I’m back at the Osborns. No, I’m not interested enough to tell you why.
Rebecca (who patronizingly calls herself “Aunty Rebecca” in my presence; ugh. Really.) has me writing her blog today. Don’t ask me why; she’s spent all day at home spending perfectly good napping time making loud noises and moving possessions around. I don’t see why you humans should have the privilege of reading my prognostications, but she bribed me with an extra-long cuddle-scratching session later. What can I say; I can be bought.
I don’t knit, as I lack those overrated prehensile thumbs you humans are always raving about. The only real benefit I see in the craft is those tasty, crunchable bamboo needles. But sometimes, humans knit for me.
Rebecca’s man-servant has been knitting a blanket for me for over a year. It is made of naturally white wool, which contrasts beautifully with my coat, and has the perfect squooshiness factor for endless kneading.
Man-person doesn’t seem to have clued in yet that this is my blanket. I understand that when he began, he meant to knit it for his lady, but I like it, so clearly it ought to be mine. Humans, especially man-humans, can be so dense at times, so I have tried to send the message more clearly.
Really, you’d think he’d get it. Anyway, last night he finished it, and laid it out on the loveseat for me to sleep on all night. Such a thoughtful servant.
Attractive and luxurious, my two requirements.
Rebecca keeps raving about how clever her man is to have managed this project, how it was only the third thing he ever started, how she’s never made a blanket, how it’s so fantastic. She might as well save her breath and start another one for herself, because this one’s coming home with me.
If it’s not at my house when I am returned home, there will be consequences. I am not sure what they will be, but believe me. I can be creative too.