Tag Archives: weed

I love my town.

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This month someone is seeking a new home for their goats.

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Nothing wrong with that… but the reason?

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Now that’s a bit disturbing. If you have to re-home your goats because of rats? You might want to re-examine your current living conditions as well as your livestock’s.

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Do you have a guy? We have a guy. I can’t tell you the name of our guy because then he would be your guy and wouldn’t have time to be ours.

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Aww. I haven’t seen the lost pig, but if these people are really the owners…. shouldn’t they know the pig’s gender by now?

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Okay, so not everyone is polite in our town.

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Bunny! In all the years we’ve lived here we’ve never had a visiting bunny. And from the text of the announcement, it’s now abundantly clear why. We simply don’t have the right kind of weed.

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Don’t touch my weed.

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I think we’ve established Lord Dudley Mountcatten is fan of the chronic.

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He spends many happy hours face down in his kitty cope sack.

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And I spend many joint creaking hours picking it up off the floor after he flings it with intoxicated feline abandon.

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Stoned? Probably.

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But woe to the person who tries to come between the Lord and his herb.

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His Lordship is not above shredding skin to keep possession.

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An adventure with weed.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is sweet…. but his less than sweet claws are doing a number on our rugs and furniture so I purchased yet another scratching post for the furry little peckerwood him.

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It’s part carpet.. since he pulls the loops out of our Berber on a daily basis.. and part sisal. What cat wouldn’t want to scratch that?

Turns out… our cat. Because his Royal Highness wouldn’t touch it. Walked right by it without so much as a glance. Which meant it was time to bring in the big guns.

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Yes, I hosed that thing down with Meowijuana.

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Righteous chronic dude.

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And while it definitely attracted him.. all he did was rub it until it fell over.

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He hugged it.

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He sat on it.

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He draped himself all over it. What the loopy bastard wouldn’t do was scratch it.

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One very happy tatter.

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15 minutes later? You be the judge.

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I’m going with stoned.

P.S. …. apologies for the silly voice overs. I tell myself not to do that, and then do it every time.

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Shopping for cats.

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My Facebook page is currently flooded with cat related products. I’m not complaining, it certainly beats the ball wash and butt deodorant I used to see. And hey… if I enjoy doing beer flights?

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I’m sure Lord Dudley Mountcatten would not be averse to a flight of kitty chronic.

This next product looked promising for me winning the cat box war.

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Though ridiculously large, it’s self contained and would stop our furry menace from flinging litter.

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Hmm. Guess that’s a no.

And I hate to admit it but yes, I broke down and ordered something silly.

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A personalized mask of me and Dudley. Granted I haven’t worn a cropped, midriff baring blouse in 20 (okay, 25. Geesh!) years…. but the hair color and wide hips are pretty close.

😉

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me (2)

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He didn’t get the memo.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is a well behaved cat. He’s a dainty eater who doesn’t bite, howl or beg. He does however scratch the furniture on occasion. Wanting to nip this habit in the bud, I purchased numerous scratch worthy substitutes…. none of which have worked.

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This is the latest, and his highness has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

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Enter a little well placed chronic.

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Scattering catnip on the scratcher elicited a response…

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But it wasn’t the one I’d hoped for.

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After rolling his entire body over it and becoming dusted in weed?

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He didn’t scratch, he napped.

Good thing he’s cute…. because he’s kind of clueless.

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Weed is the answer.

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The question – How do you get your new adopted kitty to relax?

The answer – Weed. Or as close to chronic as our 4 legged furry friends can get.

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Five days in – the recent addition to the family had been slowly acclimating to our house and routines… but he was still running under the bed or behind the couch every time we made noise.

Enter the catnip pouch.

I should have thought of this sooner… because now?

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We have one very chill feline.

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