Moosings of Moo
The Nipaholics Felinity Prayer
Meowther, grant me the felinity
To annihilate the things I cannot change;
Sharp claws to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know that I do not really need thumbs.
We all have weaknesses and mine, I will readily admit, is catnip. Otherwise known as Catcrack. Weed of the nipper, Kitty Ganja, the great herb of furry fucked-upedness, etc. etc. you get the idea.
Anyway, I tried my best to assure myself that this ham day would be different, that I would be strong and focus on the meats, focus on staying underfoot at all times to be as irritating as possible.
But then it appeared.
Wrapped in shiny silver paper, with a stringy tag which said, ‘Love from, The Hoomans’.
I should have been suspicious then, for I know better that to trust the thumbed ones, the ones with tiny heads and giant chest mountains. But then I was caught in a moment of weakness, because, well, because Bae himself offered me the gift.
It was Bae. How could I refuse?
So, I shredded the paper, the scent of the nip intensifying moment by moment, filling my head and causing the colours in the room to blur, causing Bae’s face to become multiplied and glorious many times over. Inside the paper were fake sushi balls (what mockery), filled with the glorious taboo from which I have been sober for almost 6 months now. 6 months of struggle, down the drain in an instant.
I found myself drifting in a sea alongside toona, a purrmaid with a beautiful silver fish tail, my paws stretched out before me in wonder as I realised that I might finally lure Bae to me with no chance for him to escape. My claws glistened in the clear water, and I swiped at the toona, realising after a while that I need not bother, as I am part fish too.
I awake, two hours later, chewing on my own foot.
This was only the first of many trips on The Day of The Hams, and I awoke later on that same day surrounded by bits of half eaten turkey, lying on my back, stomach full, from what I ate but cannot remember. My pupils remained wide, my mind open and ears hearing only the unending laughter of the surrounding hoomans, who had inflicted this addictive torment upon me.
The rest of my day passed in a blur, I lay, paw dangling from the tallest DoomTower of my scratching post, watching the colourful bees strung among the giant white tree flying in lazy circles, taunting me with their glowiness. I was not done yet though, oh no, for I discovered that there was in fact more than one KittyCrack sushi in the box, two more left untouched.
I do not recall what happened after this discovery, but I do know, from the aftermath, that I might have fallen from the top of my scratching post thinking that I too, like the pigeons I so enjoy petrifying, could fly. I also know now that before I passed out, I decided banging my head into the door multiple times in an effort to try and get Bae’s attention and pity, wailing his name over and over was a good idea.
Looking back, I know now it was not.
In the aftermath, I spent Boxing Day, a holy day in the world of my fellow felines, curled up in a ball, glaring at the people responsible, except of course Bae, from who I did manage to elicit some pity and much deserved head rubs.
I guess what I’m going to take away from this, is that I must remain steadfast in my future pursuit of Bae’s heart and not allow my vice to become a distraction. I fear my behaviour as the result of the Hooman’s gifts may be exactly what the tiny headed one desired, this being my utter and total humiliation.
I have much to think on as I move into my 9th year stuck in this godforsaken thumb-less form, and so will leave you now, with the hope that I can rise above my Nip weakness and begin once again down the long road to sobriety and recovery.