... that as I occasionally knit a sock or two, I should get posting privileges.
But this is about mice. And baked apples, but only tangentially. When I was a kid, I read some humorous Nora Ephron book about how to play with your food, and one of the tricks they recommended was to peel a baked apple, and then when your mother was distracted, put the naked baked apple into her hand to watch her jump and scream.
When I was 7, a phrase like "naked baked apple" was enough to make me laugh until I couldn't breathe.
That's what I just thought of when the Fool emerged from the bathroom with a catnip mouse he'd been hand-felting in hot water. He put it in my hand and said, "Well, what do you think?"
What I think is that when someone puts something felted and fuzzy and warm in my hand that's oddly still, it doesn't remind me of a funny cat toy -- it reminds me of a recently deceased mouse.
(But it felted up really nicely; we did it with Knit Picks Merino Style.)