Hi. Tuna here.
I have been chilling on the back deck these days while my mom, Millie Noe, has been stomping around, threatening to call Elon Musk. She wants to ask him if he will come over and hook this computer of hers up to his starlink satellite.
The internet service here in the black hole just outside Harmony Grove has been shadier than usual lately.
What is holding her back is her phobia of picking up a phone and making a call and then having to learn something new.
I don't really care what she does.
This desk chair is a great place to take a snooze.
My concern is the large bag of stash that is sitting inside the kitchen closet. It should be hanging to dry from the cupboard over the island with the rest of crop.
Uh oh. Here comes my mom.
"Tuna, get out of my chair, damn it!"
The Catnip Story
It all began at the beginning of the summer when my sweet Sven and I went shopping for flowers. As usual we could not resist picking up a couple tomato plants and a few seeds.
This year we almost broke even in our investment with a harvest of four medium sized tomatoes and three handfuls of little grape cutie pies. They were all amazing.
Where we kicked butt was in the department of herbs, with an overflowing pot filled with blooming dill and flowering basil.
If only we had known what to do with them.
Our real success story, however, lies in the catnip crop.
I sprinkled a package of seeds into a pot of dirt that was placed on the other side of the driveway next to the bird bath, which was next the dill and basil, which was all centered between the tomatoes.
That catnip took off.
Did you know that catnip can be harvested more than once a season?
I read that too late.
In case you have never met them, we have two adorable cats, Tuna and Grandma Meow Moses.
Tuna is all about living large and killing anything that moves. He is a real nice guy underneath a tuxedo-like exterior and a mob guy charm. He knows what he wants, he goes after it, and he gets it. He knows what he does not like. That would be Grandma Meow Moses.
Grandma is Tuna's senior by thirteen years at nineteen. She is all about breathing and less about self-grooming. She is a straight shooter and if she had a gun, she would point it right between Tuna's eyes and pull the trigger.
But I am not here today to talk about the Tuna and Grandma, Hatfield and McCoy existence which during their last encounter I was the one left bleeding and in need of medical attention.
Today I am here to talk about what these two beautiful and loving creatures have in common. I am here to look for the good instead of the bad.
Let me see.
They both love treats.
They also like my desk chair, the living room couch, being scratched behind the ears and Fancy Feast Filet Mignon crunchy food, as long as it is very fresh.
That is why the harvest of our special gift to our darlings is so exciting.
Tuna has been spotted leaving the garden of evil and sampling our surprise throughout the summer.
"So. What do you think, Tuna?"
"Why isn't Dad hanging and trimming the rest of the weed instead of reading that book about the double life of Bob Dylan? Didn't he already read that one?"
"It doesn't matter, Tuna. Go climb a tree or something."
And here we have Ms. Meow Moses.
"Grandma, what do you think of our special herb?"
"Do you mean that ditch weed?"
"Grandma! It is home grown, fresh off the vine. The best of the best, according to Tuna."
"Tuna is an idiot punk. I only partake in the real stuff that comes from overseas and has been FDA approved before it goes on the shelf in the dispensary."
"Do you mean China? And The Dollar Store?"
"I don't care what you call your dealer. In my day we bought nickel bags from ours. Why don't you run along and pick me up a dollar bag, if that is what it costs now."