Who do you think was in charge: Bonnie or Clyde?

This is Hobbit. Hobbit has made her appearance here before. She is spending the week with us while her human mom and dad are off galavanting.

Hobbit is a mild mannered little lady whose tail wags in a circle. Remember? Although I haven't seen that circular wag too much this week. She's wagging, but it is hot and we're all a bit droopy.

The following pictures may be too much to bear. You might want to preview them before letting knitters or fiber artists in your family view them.

This is the scene of the Great Fiber Massacre:

It seems that during the wee hours of Tuesday morning, my fiber basket was attacked. Where was I? Sleeping. Cuddle Buns, under my direct orders, had let Hobbit out of her sleeping crate when he got up. I swear Rudy was still in bed with me. And Cuddle Buns was deeply involved in the morning news. Didn't he hear anything? Why, no. Of course not. 

Does he need a hearing aid? Yes. Yes he does. But that is for another post.

I wanted to blame Hobbit for this mess, which really only resulted in the destruction of one (although new) drop spindle. (I haven't gone all CSI and measured the teeth marks. Yet.)

I wanted to blame her, because Rudy has never, ever, done anything like that (except for that one shoe incident last July). I want to think that on any old given day my fiber is safe.

So....when I grilled spoke with Cuddle Buns after he had gone to work, I wanted him to tell me that our houseguest had gone a little nuts with the freedom. Had overstepped her boundaries as a house guest.

But no. 

It appears Hobbit had an accomplice. 

Maybe even an instigator.

Maybe was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I'm sorry, Hobbit, for blaming you.