2/08 — Catgrass
I thought about making this a Wordless Wednesday, but the story was far too amusing…
So Loiosh is really, really fond of eating grass. This isn’t terribly unusual among cats, I know. And he gets to eat grass pretty often, since he gets to go outside with me pretty often.
Only he really hasn’t been, much, because the weather has been kinda crappy. Even Mr. It’s All Good has limits when it comes to wet paws. So while I was at the pet store, on impulse, I bought him a thing of cat grass.
It cost six bucks. For a little pot of wheatgrass.
So I was a little cranky, whatever, I should have checked the price, but he’d enjoy it, and probably Samson and Chocolate would, too, so it was fine.
I put it in the window, and Loiosh nibbled on it a little, and the other two ignored it.
A week later I moved it to a larger pot, because it was clearly about to grow right out of the little one it came in.
This morning, I decided it was time to mow the grass. With a pair of scissors.
Loiosh approved. (I love the unfocused, meditative look he gets when he’s grazing.)
But I learned something. Seems the only reason Chocolate was ignoring the catgrass? It was in the window. Which, I’ve realized, he never gets up into.
So now that he can reach it? He’s all over it.
What is this green stuff?
Perhaps I shall investigate its juiciness.
I find this green stuff quite satisfying.
Chocolate wound up eating a bunch of it, then falling asleep next to the pot, curled partway around it, protectively. Guess it’s not going back in the windowsill.
And in the meantime? My office smells like freshly-cut grass.
Yeah, that’s a win.