This Is Your Cat On Drugs
It’s Red Ribbon/National Drug
Awareness Week at schools across the country, and ours is no
exception. All week this week the girls are dressing up in a
variety of ways – like hippies for “Peace Out to Drugs
Day” (and am I the only one to see the irony of choosing the
flower child movement to represent a drug-free culture?);
“Turn Your Back on Drugs” (wear your shirt backwards);
and more. All of these days are designed to start a dialog about
drugs with our children, and get us into that uncomfortable
conversation about why they’re bad.
Fortunately for my family, my kids have seen first-hand the perils of doing drugs, right here in our own house.
No, it’s not one of us – it’s Maddie’s cat.
Fortunately for my family, my kids have seen first-hand the perils of doing drugs, right here in our own house.
No, it’s not one of us – it’s Maddie’s cat.
A while ago I bought Lily (the cat) a soft
baby chick that you can fill with catnip. I also grow my own catnip
in our herb garden – it’s great for helping kids get to
sleep – so I dried some and filled the cat toy and handed it
to Lily, expecting the cat would begin frolicking and tearing
around the house.
Unfortunately, that’s not how catnip hits Lily.
For whatever reason, catnip makes Lily as high as a kite, and it turns the poor cat into what I can only describe as a paranoid, hallucinatory druggie.
We’ll be sitting in the living room when we hear it begin on the stairs: a howling, yowling cry quite unlike Lily’s usual mew. Come around the corner and you’ll see her standing there, Chick in her mouth, glassy-eyed and talking the whole time. As best I can tell, she’s saying such things as “Why is the room spinning?” and “Where is Chick?”
Yes, “Where is Chick” seems to be a prevalent theme, and I have to patiently remind her that Chick is IN HER MOUTH several times before she gets it.
Lily will drop Chick and then stalk to the living room, where she’ll roll suspiciously around on the floor – that is, roll around while keeping one crazy eye pinned on you, like she thinks you’re going to steal her stash. And woe be unto you if you say, “Lily, where’s Chick?” because she’ll be up and guarding her dime bag quicker than you can say “Where are the Cheetos?”
It’s quite a sight to see, our cat high as a kite, and lest you think I’m making it up, we’ve had outside witnesses. I had a friend over for coffee one morning and we were chatting happily on the couch when the whole show began. When Lily stalked into the room and began rolling around my sweet friend said, “Is something wrong with your cat? Is she ok?”
And I had to say resignedly, “Yes, she’s fine. She’s just high.”
So we’ve been able to have the drug conversation with the girls, and after witnessing what a little weed does to the cat, they seem to be quite comfortable just saying no. My only concern at this point is what conversations might be going on at school, and when I might be getting a phone call from the teachers.
“Your cat gets high, and you grow the stuff yourself in your garden?”
Well, when you put it like that . . .
Unfortunately, that’s not how catnip hits Lily.
For whatever reason, catnip makes Lily as high as a kite, and it turns the poor cat into what I can only describe as a paranoid, hallucinatory druggie.
We’ll be sitting in the living room when we hear it begin on the stairs: a howling, yowling cry quite unlike Lily’s usual mew. Come around the corner and you’ll see her standing there, Chick in her mouth, glassy-eyed and talking the whole time. As best I can tell, she’s saying such things as “Why is the room spinning?” and “Where is Chick?”
Yes, “Where is Chick” seems to be a prevalent theme, and I have to patiently remind her that Chick is IN HER MOUTH several times before she gets it.
Lily will drop Chick and then stalk to the living room, where she’ll roll suspiciously around on the floor – that is, roll around while keeping one crazy eye pinned on you, like she thinks you’re going to steal her stash. And woe be unto you if you say, “Lily, where’s Chick?” because she’ll be up and guarding her dime bag quicker than you can say “Where are the Cheetos?”
It’s quite a sight to see, our cat high as a kite, and lest you think I’m making it up, we’ve had outside witnesses. I had a friend over for coffee one morning and we were chatting happily on the couch when the whole show began. When Lily stalked into the room and began rolling around my sweet friend said, “Is something wrong with your cat? Is she ok?”
And I had to say resignedly, “Yes, she’s fine. She’s just high.”
So we’ve been able to have the drug conversation with the girls, and after witnessing what a little weed does to the cat, they seem to be quite comfortable just saying no. My only concern at this point is what conversations might be going on at school, and when I might be getting a phone call from the teachers.
“Your cat gets high, and you grow the stuff yourself in your garden?”
Well, when you put it like that . . .
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Mommy Musings
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