For those of you familiar with Ravelry, you will recognize that the "face" on the Ravelympics finisher "button" is "Bob." Bob is the Ravelry mascot. He is the beloved pet of the co-creators of Ravelry. He has a big fan base on Ravelry. He has his own awards. Someone even knit a "Bob-mask" in his honor! He is a true icon in Ravelry-land.
But -- and here's my confession . . . Bob creeps me out.
So much so, in fact, that I won't be posting my Ravelympics finisher button on the sidebar of my blog. (I hope they won't kick me off Ravelry now that . . . I've revealed my true feelings about Bob. . .)
I'm a true dog-lover. I think dogs are great. I bet Bob is a wonderful dog -- and very dear to his owners. But I have this . . . thing. . . about Boston Terriers! Apparently, this goes way back. . .
When I was a little girl, I love, Love, LOVED playing with "big girls." I thought all "big girls" were Princesses. They had cool toys. They played clever games. They watched The Best tv shows. They listened to groovy music. I loved them. In my everyday-life, though, I was surrounded by boys. My neighbor friends were all boys. My parents' friends all had boys. My cousin was a boy. And, even though I had a sister, she was my baby sister for a long, long time and far too young to be a playmate. So. It was a real treat to be around "big girls." I loved to visit with a particular "big girl" named Kathy -- except for One Thing. Here's a picture of Kathy (the "big girl") and me.
It doesn't look like I'm having much fun there, though, does it? It looks like. . . I'm a bit . . . worried. Why? Well, it was the One Thing. Kathy had a dog . . . and I was Very Afraid of the dog (even though he was a nice and gentle dog - and Kathy loved him).
Look! There it is! I am miserable! (I have no idea who this little boy is; I don't remember Kathy having a little brother. . . but I'm sure the Adults put The Boy in between me and Kathy to increase the distance between me and the dog.)
Anyway, there you can see it. The dog . . . looks just like Bob. Terrifying. Creeping me out. I've clearly been scarred for life when it comes to Boston Terriers!