My cat, Baghera, is on my shit list.
He climbed up into the pantry and found the catnip. Which, by the way, was double Ziploc bagged. There is catnip spread out onto the three shelves below and everything on the floor. He shredded the damn bags, flinging the fine powder and leaves of the funky smelling plant all over. It wasn’t a small bag either, mind you. It was like a gallon size Ziploc bag half full. Little stoner. No wonder he has been sneaking in there every chance he gets. No wonder he was crashed out like a friggin rock on the bed last night and this morning. He was stoned. He was stoned out of his little mind. I wonder if there can be permanent damage from that. Like the damn cat is going to be retarded for the rest of his life. Dummy. Even now as I type this, he comes flying into the kitchen like he is being chased by the boys, or the dog, or the other cats – who hate him. Attacking his tale like it’s some kind of evil thing that’s got a death grip on his butt. His Batman identity tag jingles and clinks a bit as he rolls around on the floor. OOOhhh. Now the little fucker is trying to get into the pantry. Oh, what? Did your high go away? You coming down? Leaning against the door, he gives me this pitiful little meow. Then his tail somehow has a life of its own and twitches on the floor. Taunting him, teasing him with a flick and a swish. Suddenly, it’s too much. He can’t take it anymore and leaps two feet in the air while doing a flip. I gotta give it to him – he did catch the end of his tail in his mouth, mid-flip. Even if his landing lacked all grace and athleticism that most cats have; he landed with a thump on his side. Well, the little bastard is fun to watch, and he is really very sweet; but I will be cursing him while cleaning up that mess.
Maybe I will leave the door open all night and the other cats will smell it. They’ll be in there having a little drug fest. I’ll come down here in the morning and they will be spread out across the floor and the couches. Cracking open one eye and giving a little “meowfff”. As if to say “What’s up dude. I found your stash in the closet, and whoa… It was some good shit.”
Ha, little kitty stoners. I still think it’s hilarious that it has that kind of a reaction. But I really would have preferred to ration his portions.
Even after it all, I will still welcome that little bum into my arms while sitting on the couch. I love my kitty, even if he does have a drug problem.
