I Want Wool

Between classes…

Texted Jason about getting a puppy. Denied. Then I offered sexual favors for it.

Still denied. 

I just want an animal. 

My parents' dog, Cow, when she was 8 weeks old. If you squint and look at the black and white blob behind her, that is Oreo, Cow's sister. Also my parents'. But guessed who named Cow? (Me.)

After classes…

Then I remembered Karen. Knitter, spinner, accountant from NW Handspun Yarns in downtown. A couple weeks ago, she showed me a picture of Harvey, a long-haired, furry, REW (ruby-eyed white) rabbit she bought from a woman in some yarn show. Fifteen bucks. Harvey is an angora rabbit, English was its specific breed. I had no idea what she meant. English, Scottish, Latin. Ethnic background was no significance to me. 
She typed English angora into the Google search engine and I stared at the image she showed me. The rabbit was drowning in fur, and as large as a fat cat or a fluffed out yappy dog. Its eyes were shielded by its fringe of wool that cascaded to his little nose. Furry tendrils fell from his loppy ears. In all his fluffy estate, the rabbit was not cute to look at.

“How much wool is on him?”

“Too much. I have to brush him 2-3 times a week.” Her gestures were exasperated, pantomiming how she’d brush her rabbit, Harvey, at night. “I have to turn him over on his back,” her hands moved counter-clockwise forming a circle, “and brush his belly,” an invisible brush stroked along a horizon, “and cut mats that have poo and dirt," her index and middle fingers sliced the air like a pair of scissors. "But he gives me a lot of wool.”

“So you don’t have to kill it to get its wool?” I imagined his clean coat streaked with red guts.

Karen laughed. “No, brushing or shearing gets the wool out.”

Listening to her gave me an idea, a way to feed my knitting addiction that I developed only since last July when I spent hours after work learning how to knit hats and scarves in front of the TV that I was not paying attention to.  

I grabbed my phone and told Jason about Karen and Harvey.

“Angora rabbits. That’s where angora comes from. Angora is really expensive. And soft. Remember, it was the halo-looking stuff  I put in my brown hat? That fluffy stuff that made it look ethereal?”

Jason said a little “uh-huh” whenever I took a breath from talking.

“So, can I have one?”

“Would we be able to eat it when we’re done?” His loud chuckle reverberated over the cellphone waves.

“No! We won’t eat him, we’ll just use him. For wool.”

“I still want to eat him.”

“Look, if you’re getting an animal, then I would like one too. A rabbit. It’ll be smaller than a bleating goat and less noisier than a clucking chicken.”
“Fine, but only after we clear the lot.”