Kitty Can't Cope Sacks: contact high

[violetcheetah]

I brought a couple of my sweatshirts home from my friend's place the other night, put my backpack down, and tossed the sweatshirts over the back of a dining chair so they wouldn't get cat hair on them before I put them away for the summer. I went to prepare tuna and put down kibble, but no one cared. Peter was batting at the dangling sweatshirt arm, which threatened to knock everything off. He didn't notice the tuna. I put the sweatshirt arm over the back of the chair and realized that OJ was licking the back of my backpack. Oooh-kay. Looked back at Peter, who was now on the seat of the chair, chewing my sweatshirt. And then I finally got it: the sweatshirts had been sitting for a week on top of an open box of Kitty Can't Cope Sacks; my friend ordered 33 three-packs to give one to every cat at Nine Lives of Norton, where we volunteer. And the president of the company, after making sure she really meant to order that many and finding out what they were for, made it an even gross (144 bags), so the extras were still at her place, in that box. The bags were still in their plastic packages, but no matter: they'd infused my sweatshirts. I went to my room to put the sweatshirts away, but then I decided, ehn, I'll wash them again later. So I came back, and Peter was draped over the back of the chair, chewing the skirt that had been under the shirts, in contact with them for about two whole minutes. I tossed the sweatshirts down and had to try to pick a determined Peter up and carry him over to one of them without dropping him because I was giggling too hard to have proper motor control.

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Originally posted at http://violetcheetah.dreamwidth.org/50458.html. Feel free to comment there
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