So I'm growing catnip. Last year, the only time the cats expressed interest in the catnip plant was when they saw me pick leaves because they knew they would get a treat. Then again, they thought they would get a treat any time I picked leaves off any plant. They would come running to sniff basil, mint, arugula, etc. But this year the cats are actually attracted to the plants. They began attacking the plants over the winter when I was growing it indoors. Once I set the pot outside things went back to normal for a while. A couple of weeks ago I went outside and discovered that the catnip had been munched, stomped, and rubbed out. It looked as if it had fallen under a moving tractor. I blamed Henry. J suggested that I consider the dozen other cats that roam the hood and frequent our alley. Ok, fine. She's right. Any damn animal could have done it. She cleaned up the pot and replanted the surviving plants. We set the pot on top of the straw bale garden for the time being. Mistake.
Yesterday I happened to peek outside to take in the view of the garden and I spot Henry in a drug-induced frenzy - munching, stomping, rubbing, rolling, bathing in the bowl of catnip. He was manic, high off his nut on fresh catnip. At one point he rolled right off the straw bale garden onto the ground. All I could see were his white socks sticking up in the air. He loves to roll on the ground anyway so he hung out for a while on the cool grass catching some rays. He recovered and went back to massaging his face with catnip plants. He was so in the zone that my yelling didn't faze him. He couldn't hear me or see me and didn't care. "Ah hah! You are so busted, cat!" After I got my digital evidence I went to retrieve the bowl. He was again on the ground, belly up, eyes glazed over in euphoria, "Hey, ma. Whoa, you gotta try this shit. It's primo, man. Smooth."
"Where the hell do you think you are?" I yelled as I swiped the bowl. "Pierce County!?"