I present Percy Ariel, the poet cat :)

I came across the adorable Amineko crochet cat pattern and used it as a jumping off point for an improvisational cat with foppish & literary tendencies ~ what fun!

Percy takes his name from Percy Bysshe Shelley and also Shelley’s doppelganger, Ariel, in one of my favorite poems, “With a Guitar, to Jane” (which you can read below).

Construction notes

After oohing and aahing over Amineko, I unvented this knitted kitty, using Knit Picks self-striping Felici sock yarn. The colorway, marsh, is sort of retro ugly cool -- not quite attractive but strangely appealing nonetheless. I created Percy’s head and body all in one seamless piece, magic loop construction. I was worried that his neck would end up too floppy but actually it was just right and supports his big head without a problem.

The arms and legs are small diameter tubes and are lightly stuffed; the hands and feet are knit with some scraps of white Comfort DK and firmly stuffed. The ears are basically small triangular “tubes”, flattened and sewn to Percy’s head on a slight curve.

I did some experimenting for the shaping of Percy’s nose and mouth area….I wanted the knitted fabric to be a bit more defined and not simply a flat cushion sewn into shape afterwards. After some futzing, I got a pleasing contour and stuffed and sewed it to his face. The nose is a bit of mystery lavender yarn, knit separately and attached after the muzzle was attached to the face. Percy’s whiskers are actually teeeeny tiny i-cords, as I was afraid that using just plain pieces of yarn would unravel and become unkempt too rapidly. I used a bit of embroidery thread for the mouth line and the eyes.

Percy’s outfit is a kind of mashup of different pieces, some adapted from existing patterns and some just improvised. The newsboy cap is a variation of this cute pattern, which I adapted to fit Percy.

The sweater/shirt and waistcoat are variations of a some pieces in Annette Hefford’s fun book. I modified both sizing and styling to create Percy’s bespoke outfit. Percy’s pants were a bit of an experiment to see if I could include cabling at a small, tight gauge and it worked pretty well. I used the Reynolds Soft Linen for the trousers and it gives the fabric a nice drape and a bit of sheen. Since Percy is a gentleman, I also made sure to tailor his trousers to have the necessary “tail liberation” feature. :)

The decoration on the waistcoat was a lot of fun to create. I was thinking of the beautifully embellished corded jackets, vests, and waistcoats first seen c. mid-19th century dress clothing and wanted to recreate something like that for Percy. As real soutache embellishment is very fancy and painstakingly difficult & beyond my capabilities, I made faux soutache instead.

Using bits of Berroco Latitude, I first made a 5-strand flat braid but it was a bit fussy to sew into shape without gapping, so I used that as a necktie/scarf for Percy instead. I then made some smaller 3-strand flat braids and sewed them into the looped shapes. Latitude is itself constructed with a black binder thread, so it very effectively camouflaged the black sewing thread I used to affix them to the waistcoat fronts and over the edges, finally securing them on the inside surfaces.

I love how the aqua color of the trim really pops on the black, garter stitch background. For a little flair, I sewed in tiny squat pearls (from my bead stash) into the center of each loop. Even though it is only faux soutache, Percy tells me he is pleased with the result, as am I. :)

~~~~~~~~~~

“With a Guitar, to Jane” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ariel to Miranda; – Take
This slave of music for the sake
Of him who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony,
In which thou can’st, & only thou,
Make the delighted spirit glow,
’Till joy denies itself again
And too intense is turned to pain;
For by permission & command
Of thine own prince Ferdinand
Poor Ariel sends this silent token
Of more than ever can be spoken;
Your guardian spirit Ariel, who
From life to life must still pursue
Your happiness, for thus alone
Can Ariel ever find his own;
From Prospero’s enchanted cell, As the mighty verses tell,
To the throne of Naples he
Lit you o’er the trackless sea,
Flitting on, your prow before,
Like a living meteor.
When you die, the silent Moon
In her interlunar swoon
Is not darker sadder in her cell
Than deserted Ariel;
When you live again on Earth
Like an unseen Star of birth
Ariel guides you oer the sea
Of life from your nativity;
Many changes have been run
Since Ferdinand & you begun
Your course of love, & Ariel still
Has tracked your steps & served your will.
Now, in humbler, happier lot
This is all remembered not;
And now, alas! the poor sprite is
Imprisoned for some fault of his
In a body like a grave. –
From you, he only dares to crave
For his service & his sorrow
A smile to day, a song tomorrow.

The artist who this idol wrought
To echo all harmonious thought
Felled a tree, while on the steep
The woods were in their winter sleep
Rocked in that repose divine
On the sweet-swept Apennine;
And dreaming, some of autumn past
And some of spring approaching fast,
And some of April buds & showers
And some of songs in July bowers
And all of love, – & so this tree –
O that such our death may be –
Died in sleep & felt no pain
To live in happier form again,
From which, beneath Heaven’s fairest star,
The artist wrought this lovéd guitar,
And taught it justly to reply
To all who question skilfully
In language gentle as thine own;
Whispering in ea enamoured tone
Sweet oracles of woods & dells
And summer winds in sylvan cells
For it had learnt all harmonies
Of the plains and of the skies,
Of the forests & the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains,
The clearest echoes of the hills,
The softest notes of falling rills,
The melodies of birds & bees,
The murmuring of summer seas,
And pattering rain & breathing dew
And airs of evening; – and it knew
That seldom heard mysterious sound,
Which, driven on it’s diurnal round
As it floats through boundless day
Our world enkindles on its way –
All this is knows, but will not tell
To those who cannot question well
The spirit that inhabits it:
It talks according \to/ the wit
Of its companions, and no more
Is heard that has been felt before
By those who tempt it to betray
These secrets of an elder day. –
But, sweetly as it’s answers will
Flatter hands of perfect skill,
It keeps it’s highest holiest tone
For our beloved Jane alone.