Murder

Many moons ago, and mostly on a lark, I filled out a little form on the Maker’s Mark website. It said it would add you to their ambassador’s club. I think I likely found it when looking for address labels or something like that. It’s since been a source of a surprising amount of amusement. The address labels came, but so did other things. For you see, every winter they send out some sort of special little package. One year it was an ice cube tray that  made baseball sized ice spheres.  One year it was wrapping paper and gift bags with snowflake images made of bottles all over them (used it to wrap a four year old’s birthday present, merriment was felt by all).  This year…this year it was a tiny sweater.  A tiny sweater with snowflakes and prancing reindeer and the word “Maker’s” emblazoned across the chest.  The idea was that you adorn your bottle with suitable holiday cheer.

This was not what happened at our house.

At our house, I first turned it inside out to see how it was put together (kind of funky actually…I may have to ask someone who knows more about colorwork just what’s going on there).  Then I danced it around and showed it to the boy and pondered various amusing puppet shows.  Then I set it on the counter and walked away.  A short while later I heard the sounds of restrained mirth coming from the living room.  Sure enough, The Boy had begun the process of introducing Douglas to the sweater.  I…I’m apparently more or less resigned to the blog thing because I dashed off to grab the camera.  I managed a few quick shots, none stellar.  But hopefully this one is enough to convey the sense of utter disdain in which Douglas now holds us.  If you hear that I’ve been found dead of mysterious causes, question the kitten.  He’s certainly had appropriate provocation.

And please don’t worry, he was out of it within about 30 seconds and seems to have suffered no harm from this affront to his dignity.