After nearly two years, my cat has finally realized that her Bill Clinton doll is actually a catnip toy.
A couple of years ago, we bought her a Clinton doll <commercial plug>made by Kitty Hoots</commercial plug>. Nothing elaborate; about the size of my hand, printed with a caricature of Clinton, and sewn so that it can flop around (any comparison between the doll and the actual person will go ostentatiously unmade). It didn’t smell like catnip to her, however; it’s spent 99% of its time lying, neglected, on her towel on the bed (she has sat on it a couple of times).
Last week, however, it inadvertantly got washed, being hidden in the folds of the towel when that got bundled up and tossed in the washing machine. My wife found, hung it up to dry, and, last night, decided that it was dry enough to put back on the bed. About 2200, I was ready to retire for the night, when Patches stopped and sniffed at the doll for several seconds. She then went into a typical catnip frenzy: biting, clawing and kicking the doll, with timeouts for licking it vigorously and rubbing her face on it, all the while purring loudly.
I found this highly gratifying on a couple of levels.
Seemed funny mainly because Nixon was not a topic for decades and someone had someone had plulled it out of a trunk for a retro-gag. He had to end up going as a hobo.
No, it’s Patches (yes, I know; we were trying to save on creative thought :rolleyes: ).
When we first found her, my wife did suggest naming her “Hilary”. “A predatory, inhuman female?”, I replied. “Works for me”. The suggestion was not adopted.
