The Drug Habit in my own House

I made a startling realization the other day, one of our cats is a drug addict.  The drug being catnip.

Her name is Booger.  She showed up on our drive way, unweaned and tiny.  We bottle fed her for the first couple of weeks, and I took her to the office with me.  She would spend 30 minutes stretches chasing her own tail on top of my desk.  She has always liked to have small, dark, cramped spaces to hide in, away from everyone.  We call these spaces "Booger places."  Currently, she wedges herself under the wine rack for much of the day.  Booger is affectionate in her own way.  She likes to be petted, but on her own terms.  She lives in fear of being picked up.  If your petting seems too similar to an action that maybe, perhaps, will lead to an attempt to pick her up, she bolts.

One way I like to make toys for the critters is to take smallish stuffed animals, open a seam, restuff it with catnip, and sew it up again.  Even better if the stuffed animal is a gerbil or mouse or bird.

Booger has taken to a duck stuffed with catnip.  She spends a good deal of time curled up with the duck.

Now, with humans who have a drug habit, they become cautionary tales for the rest of the bipeds.  Who hasn't seen the photos of pre and during addiction?  The shiny hair, the clear skin, the youthful expression replaced with splotches, balding spots, green or lost teeth, the dead look in the eyes. 

Not Booger.  Booger's addiction makes her more social.  No more inclined to be picked up, but more willing to socialize or even be seen by guests.  I think I need to make her a few more cat nip toys . . . perhaps shove a couple under the wine rack.