Ginger Tabby Tara

From an orange T-shirt, Tara inheritated a pinhole on her narrow neck.

It wasn’t noticeable unless you combed for lint.

I slapped on a piece of white scrap and stabilised it with rows of stitched stripes .

Her head wobbled.

I stitched it down.

For each stripe added for stability, 2 more followed for visual balance.

Her neck slacked, head flopped back.

I snipped all the stitches, removed the collar and see a hole the size of a crayon.

Tara whispered,” see it, mend it. The thickened fabric will hold my head high.”

I obliged.