Cat Toys

Each time we bring Willie with us on a visit to the home of our friends Tom and Erik, Willie adopts one of their cat’s toys.

“Uh-oh,” I said the first time I saw Willie trotting through the dining room with a catnip mouse in his mouth, “Willie filched one of Fuzzy’s mice.”

“That’s okay,” Erik said, “he can have it.  Fuzzy won’t touch it now.”

I felt conflicted for a moment – sort of the way a parent might feel if his child raided another child’s toybox — especially if the host’s child habitually disappeared under a bed each time we appeared at the door, remaining there for the duration of our visit.

“Wow, he really likes it,” Richard said, observing how Willie tossed and chased and played with this new small, grey object, “and it seems like just the right size for his mouth.”

Indeed, Willie amused himself for much of the evening with the mouse, trotting through the rooms with the mouse dangling from his mouth.   As Richard and I prepared to leave, Tom said, “And don’t forget to take the mouse.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, holding the now matted and soggy toy by its tail.

“No, really, it’s okay.  It’s Willie’s now.”

At home, the mouse became Willie’s favorite toy, replacing his plush hedgehog, his fox (which looks disturbingly like road kill), and his red-headed duck – my personal favorite of Willie’s toys because carrying it through the house makes him look like a tiny hunting dog from an L.L. Bean photo spread.

It’s Willie’s habit to rip his toys apart after a few weeks of play – toys that Richard has repaired so often with needle and thread that they’ve taken on a sort of homespun/Frankenstein quality.  Yet this catnip stuffed mouse – the smallest and most fragile of his toys – has remained intact for a surprisingly long time, despite the fact that Willie takes it with him into his crate each night, emerging with it again each morning.

This week, while my sister was visiting from New York City, she and Richard came home from running errands in town with two small new toys for Willie: another mouse, and a bright blue fish with green fins – both filled with catnip.  Willie sat at Richard’s feet, expectant, with tail wagging, as Richard opened the packaging.

“But those are more… cat toys,” I said, momentarily confused.

“So?”  He loves them.”

And then – a dark thought:  Could Willie be developing a catnip dependency?