Bo lives in his own little world, as always. He still attacks all the other cats, playing the "I'm an enormous tiger; grrrrrrr!" game he's so fond of. I've been shooing him away from Willow and BC when he starts beating up on either of them. Today, he leapt under the couch and then attacked my feet when I moved into range. He's a total, 24x7 fruitbat.
Fortunately, Bo is highly susceptible to catnip. The other evening, Bo leapt into the cat carrier I've had in my office from when I took Willow to the vet for boarding while we were at Orycon and snuffled up the bits of catnip that remained there from a while back.
Catnip hits the little guy very hard. Within 30 seconds, he'd lost any shreds of dignity and was whapping at anything that moved outside the cat carrier. (I enjoyed seeing the little claws come out through the mesh.)
Bo doesn't have to stoned to be strange, though. I caught him leaping onto the kitchen counter a couple of times this weekend but I couldn't figure out why. Finally, the mystery was revealed: Bo was hunting. Hunting what? Pistachios, of course!
There was a big bag of pistachios on the counter and they'd apparently been telling him he was ugly and his mother dressed him funny, because he was hot after them. He finally cornered one as it tried to escape and, when it wouldn't talk, he ate it.
Well, when I was a kid, we had a golden retriever that loved eating apples, so wotthehell, wotthehell? I am only thankful that Bo (who is this very minute attacking the wheel on the other Aeron chair in the office because it had Looked At Him In A Funny Way) suffers from Kitty ADD too much to ever figure out how to actually shell the pistachios; otherwise, we'd have shells from here to breakfast.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment