Saturday, Apr. 06, 2002
Dear Diary:

I'd looked in the grocery store. I'd looked in the hardware store. I'd looked everywhere I could think of and in desperation I even went to the drugstore. The clerk there didn't speak English very well and my roundabout explanation in my fractured French left her puzzled.

"You want to buy drugs for your cat?" she asked me, looking slightly alarmed.

Clearly, she was a woman who didn't understand the darker side of cats.

Clearly, I was a woman who did not know the French word for catnip.

Yes, I was looking for a 'nip dealer. The cats were jonesing. It had been a while, eh.

The spousal unit and I hoped to tap into their dark need as a way of encouraging them to use the new scratching posts he had made for them. They had done a serious number to some of the logs in our home, not to mention some of the handmade pine moldings.

The posts went up at Christmas and have been largely ignored. We figured coating the scratching posts with the 'nip would make them pretty much irresistible and maybe spare our home.

It was worth a shot.

Now normally I buy the Hartz 'nip but it wasn't in stock anywhere. So I drove out to a pet supply place and that's when I found IT.

"Four Paws Super Catnip Leaves & Blossoms," the box said. "The world's finest quality, most aromatic catnip ever grown which will make your cat happy, healthy and frisky." It looked pretty cheesy, eh.

Frankly, my skepticism was misplaced. Kids, we are talking 'nip so potent that the cats were almost throwing themselves against the door as I stood outside on the porch fumbling with my keys. I wondered if I might lose a limb.

My two cats have two different approaches to the 'nip. Zoe is a member of the "I must roll around in the 'nip and completely coat my fur in it's goodness, grooming myself into a drug induced stupour" school.

Zubby, on the other hand, just mainlines his 'nip and is a member of the "gobble it down before it disappears" school. This means Zubby pigs down his 'nip and then goes over to Zoe's stash and tries to steal hers. They instantly launch into a bitter, ugly take-no-prisoners fight.

See why drugs are bad?

Once the fight begins I have to put on the oven mitts so I don't lose a hand to a drug-crazed cat, grab Zubby (who is about four times as heavy as Zoe) and pitch him outside for a while so Zoe can take her time enjoying her 'nip.

Scratch.  You're supposed to scratch one of these things.So while Zubby was out fuming on the porch and Zoe was upstairs in fuzzy Nirvana, the spousal unit rubbed one of the scratching posts with the new 'nip.

When we let Zubby back into the house he immediately ran over to the newly 'nipalicious post. It was the first time he had shown an iota of interest in it.

We were thrilled. We were tingly. The air was thick with anticipation.

Did he sharpen his claws on it as we hoped?

No, not exactly.

What he did was stretch his full length and then very methodically lick all the 'nip off the cardboard before walking away for a nap.

Go have cats.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.