Every year for the last three years, at Christmas, a very kind woman named Anne from NYC has sent me several knit balls filled with catnip for Tunch. I have no idea what kind of weapons grade catnip she puts in them, but trust me, this is the kine bud. He gets in it, tugs at the yarn, his nose goes bright red and his whiskers go forward (do all cat’s whiskers curl forward when they are ornery?) his tail goes straight up and gets twitchy, and he rolls around chirping. Here’s Tunch so stoned to the bejeezus that he is breaking cat rule #1 and passed out underneath a… rocking chair:
I give Tunch catnip every now and then, and the Ills grow it and I give him fresh stuff, but he treats it like shake and never acts up. But nothing hits home team like this stuff. He’ll be walking around rubbing on everything and chirping for a couple hours, and I will actually have to pick up the knit ball around ten if I want to be able to sleep by eleven. Otherwise, he’ll just drive me nuts all night.