Despite my love for knitting I don't have a yarn fetish. I don't hoard balls of yarn and I don't have a stash. I do, however, have a dog with a yarn fetish. She seems powerless to the draw of a ball of yarn. The faintest hint of sheep and she is gone. Handmade and store-bought bear no distinction for that one. Balls of unopened yarn, mittens, sweaters, hats, finished, unfinished. It doesn't seem to matter. But it turns out that pom poms are the mother of all finds for a yarn obsessed canine. It must feel like floss between her teeth and unlike most people, the thought of flossing sends her into a tizzy and she must, must, get a hold of that yarn. She attacks and pulls each fibre shaking it loose from her steely jaws again and again until the satisfaction of having totally destroyed and distributed the fibres to the four corners of the room leaves her exhausted and totally satisfied. Agatha's beloved hat was the find of the century. Three pom poms in one location. Woohooo! Luckily we have become experts in the art of pom pom repair. Everything is back to normal but that dog is a ticking time bomb. There's no telling what her next target will be.