Taking the baby out in public

I took the fast-foot socks to the knitting group yesterday. It was premature. I'm not sufficiently accustomed to the pattern to work it without paying attention, and will have to tink or frog a couple of rows. And I didn't pay enough attention to the writing, either. Just because I can work the socks flawlessly while watching re-runs of the Simpsons doesn't mean I have the process down pat yet.

We have three cats: Dear old Jack, saucy young Fly, and our bi-polar girl, Candy (and her evil twin, Pickles. You never know which one you're petting till she hauls off and shreds your hand.)
Since it's dry and warm outside, Fly wants to play the door game constantly. Lately, when he wants to go out, and his slaves with thumbs won't respond quickly enough, he pounds on poor old Jack and gets thrown out. Jack does not like being used as a doorbell. He has taken to spending his time on my lap, but what will he do when I'm not here? Thank God I don't have kids!