I have suggested to Birdie that 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning might be a little too early to hit the nip.
But she insisted; and, really, I just wanted to drink my coffee. At least if she was spazzing out over catnip toys, she wasn’t smacking the other non-high cats.
When her antics ramped up to ridiculous, I again suggested that maybe enough was enough and she find a nice sunspot to lounge in and reflect on life or count her toes or something.
Then she mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m Johnny Cash.”
She does have excellent musical taste though and the chorus of “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is certainly relatable quality when deadlines, homework and Monday morning looms. Or you haven’t had enough catnip.