A few weeks ago, Catster ran a story called “What Type of Catnip User Is Your Cat?” According to the categorizations that article provides, I’m a "square" who doesn’t use. The article claims that kitties who don’t use do so because they lack receptors in their brains to make them high. Well, that writer is wrong.
I’m about to drop a knowledge bomb on you: I’ve used the nip. I don’t lack chemical receptors. I have something special, something called strength of character. You humans don’t say that someone who doesn’t drink lacks chemical receptors to appreciate a beer, do you?
There are a number of good reasons to abstain from feline dope. First and foremost, there’s dignity. A very famous feline, Mister Snuggles Jefferson, once said, "Any kitty who’d sacrifice a little bit of dignity for a little bit of hedonism deserves neither dignity nor hedonism.” The whole rolling around on the floor playing with a mouse made of fabric is not a great way to keep your dignity.
But, there’s another good reason not to use feefer: Cats make bad decisions when they’re all hopped up on the devil’s oregano. Take what’s happened recently. Since Mommy got that other cat, I’ve had some awkward itching. I talked to Mommy about it, and sure enough, I’m getting combed — she’s even dropping Frontline on the back of my neck.
That little punk gave me fleas. I must have gotten them from him. We all know I don’t go outside, and fleas don’t just spontaneously appear on inside kitties. But cats who make poor decisions hanging out in seedy shelters, they get fleas. Then they give them to cats like me. He made the sort of bad decisions that attract blood suckers, and now I’m infected.
Fortunately, there’s modern medical treatment available. But, just think how much more of my paycheck could be spent on gravy if I didn’t have to pay for medical treatment. We all know how expensive medical coverage has become in this day and age.
So, you hear me, kittens? Don’t inhale the sniff. One day you’re chasing after a plush piece of sushi, and the next day you’re nothing more than a walking smorgasbord for six-legged hobos.
But there’s something else about recreational inhalants that I find uncomfortable. It makes good kitties complacent. You take a cat who’s up to some chicanery and you give him some herb, and next thing you know he’s rolling on the floor and not finding a clever way to poop outside the box. When I think of how much feline mischief-productivity is lost to dope, it makes me sad, and it takes a lot to make me sad.
And something has to be pretty terrible to make me sad. It would have to be something tragic, like the waste of an awesome practical joke to human stupidity, or getting fleas.
I think it’s time to go beat up on Ziggy.