For the past few evenings, as Mr. Palindrome and I sip wine and talk about our days, wafts of weed have quickly taken over the living area necessitating a swift closing of the balcony door. That makes us sound like wet rags. Whatevs, I'm not a fan of the smell. At first we thought it was a skunk. But that didn't make any sense in the middle of San Francisco high rises. You can take the girl out of Carolina, but you can't take the skunk suspicions out of the girl.
Even though it's not my bag, I was totally curious about drugs for the cat. Cat nip is perfectly legal, readily available and completely intriguing to me. Mr. Palindrome told me not to drug his cat. But like a mother with a fussing baby on an airplane, I looked longingly at the drugs wondering if the effects were just like everyone said.
When we were cheapskates on scratching posts and opted for the cardboard version, it came with a bag of the good stuff. Hehehe. My opportunity for experimentation had arisen. When Mr. Palindrome was still at work, I carefully sprinkled the bag into the corrugated weave. "Here kitty, kitty," I lured Olliver to the forbidden.
I leaned the scratching board on the table legs and let him get his first whiff. Within seconds the board was flipped, the nip was strewn about the carpet and his eyes were wild.
The good news is that we both recovered just fine. We've adjusted to moderate doses in small toys to avoid the crazy eyes situation. I still close the balcony door when I start to smell skunk, but I think cat nip in moderation is ok. At least when he's fussy on airplanes.
4 hours ago