for reasons which escape me now, I scattered some dried catnip on our bed for Liessa last night. More sensible people would have done this before we got into bed, but neither P nor I have ever been considered sensible.
the sight of her hoovering up the leaves lead to a slightly surreal conversation , starting with Liessa living in the underpass, with a dog on a string, begging passers by if they could spare a bit of chicken. Then it moved onto her as a bagkitten, pushing all her worldly goods around in a supermarket trolley, still with the dog on a string.
P actually became quite upset at this point, and was convinced that he would dream of the Dere Little Kitten, cast aside like flotsam. However, he didn’t – in fact, he probably dreamed of CSS and Perl, as he so often does. Strange chap, my husband ..
Tags: catnip
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