Reveille occurred at Oh-three-hundred hours prompted by a full bladder. It was an unwelcome wake-up call, as the troops came close to mutiny the previous evening.
"Look, pretty kitties! I have a surprise for you," I announced while shaking the heart-shaped toy. They approached cautiously. "Is this an enemy trick? She feeds us and releases us from confinement on occasion, but we are Troop Kitteh, and we do not fall for hoomin wile."
Lily, the bravest of the bunch, came closer, sniffed, rubbed her face on it, and turned away. Boop sniffed it, adopted a bored visage, and went about other important business like licking his tukas. But Princess, surely Princess who loves all things jingly, would be enticed.
She hid behind some boxes.
Saddened that my present was rejected with the particular apathy only felines can muster (if they feel like mustering), I realized that I skimped on the catnip. I retrieved my knitting materials and began to create something that might be pleasing to human and cat alike.
As I pulled the catnip from my knitting basket, the troops double-timed it back into The Room of Confinement and stared at the container of catnip. I stared at them, amazed by and wary of their moxie. And then, I caved, fearful of the damage they are capable of inflicting on both animal and inanimate objects.
I sprinkled catnip here. I sprinkled catnip there, and yet their appetite for catnip did not diminish but grew exponentially. They meowed. They swatted me with claws retracted, reminding me that should they choose, they could claw up my face. They have tasted blood.
Catnip they wanted; catnip they received. They commandeered my bed and slept the sleep of victors.
I quietly knitted another heart, determined to get it right this time.
