Normally my roommate cooks. I may help with some stuff. I don't really cook so much as I assemble. I chop, I open cans . . . you know, the stuff people probably have their kids do. Anyway, sometimes he doesn't feel well enough to cook and we'll just eat separate things. This is what we did tonight, which meant we were both in the kitchen for quite a while.
When we go into the kitchen together, it's only a matter of time before the cats follow. The dish I was working on required a lot of microwave time, so I was going to be in there for at least half an hour. My roomie decided to keep me company. The cats decided to supervise. At some point, this became a lot of fun.
The cats are yogurt sluts. Major, unrepentant yogurt sluts. My roommate set out a plate for each of them and we watched in delight as they devoured it. Well, three of them did. One of them, a cat who is somewhat mentally challenged at times, batted at hers and looked at it in confusion for a while before her brain finally grasped what it was. Poor cat. I still think she never got it.
Once the yogurt was consumed, he got down their kitty treats. The little bag of treats is kept in a safe place in the kitchen. I would tell you where, but the cats have spies and they're always trying to get the treat package away from us. This has happened a few times. We'd come home from shopping and a half-crewed up bag would be broken and slobber-covered on the floor. None of them ever confessed though.
Anyway, the treats are fun because they come with both song AND dance. The cats dance around and meow excitedly for their treats. Our littlest cat eats the treats like she's never eaten before. Aforementioned mentally challenged kitty lays on her treats to keep the others away, slowly moving down to reveal the next one as she eats.
The semi-outdoor cat is never sure about the treats. She is happy to get them, but I think it's more because she wants to be included than any real interest in eating them. Then again, her idea of a "treat" is killing a bunny and ripping it to pieces.
After the treats were eaten, his next move was to go for broke and break out the catnip. Catnip has to be kept in an even more secure place, basically for the same reasons as the treats. Our cats are the biggest junkies I've ever seen. If we didn't use it sparingly, they'd start writing really bad poetry or something.
I'm rather certain of this because as bad as the song and dance is for the treats, it's even worse for catnip. There is a frantic edge to it. Kind of "I'm begging for this but if I don't get it, I may just claw out your eyes."
The nip led to much rolling around on the floor and vacant stares. It was rather potent nip, so they spaced out more than usual. Just for good measure, he gave them one more dose later. The cats were in heaven.
As for us, we laughed through the whole process, pointing out cute looks or spastic actions. We even gave them dialogue about what is going on. I haven't laughed so hard in a while.
That is what's so amazing about life. Even when you're in the darker spaces of your mental hell, even when you've been writing caustic posts for days and days, you can find yourself having these moments where everything is beautiful and fun. Even when the turmoil is the norm, it doesn't have to be the constant.
So that was our night. It's one I'll remember forever. I'm grateful for that.
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