It’s fair to say that we have a long, checkered history with cat toys. Because of the very fickle nature of the beasts the toys are for, some will be a big hit and others will be a dust-catcher for a period of time before they are removed.
Few can forget the time I got Pumpkin a crinkly bag-tunnel thing, knowing how much she loved to dart into carrier bags. I thought it was safer, maybe, to buy this than have her dice with death and suffocation otherwise.
And it sat unusued for all the time that it was in the house. No interest was shown in it whatsoever. So we gave it to someone else, and their cats went crazy for it.
And that’s kind of been the way ever since.
Peppa’s not a big player, she’ll have a look at some stuff but she’s generally not that interested. When she was a kitten she had six little mice, all different colours. They were her favourite toys, and she used to love attacking them. Now, four years down the line, only brown mouse remains. And he’s tail-less. The other mice met various fates – I know the pink one was sucked up the Dyson. I have no idea where the other four went.
Brown mouse is still played with though, to this day. So she definitely has the playing instinct. But she won’t play with much else. She has a “bird” on a stick that she can take or leave (mainly leave), but Trixie loves that on the few occasions I’ve played with her in the garden to try and distract her from the joys of our house.
The other day, left to my own devices in Pets At Home, I might have picked up a new toy. I was meant to be buying cat food. Which I totally did. But you’ve got to treat your favourite little black and white companion as well… so I bought her a mouse, filled with catnip. And, importantly, no stuffing.
It’s basically a flat mouse.
Peppa goes crazy for it. Because, as I say, it’s filled with catnip. She bloody loves it. She chews it, licks it, rolls all over it, pounces on it, bats it about, carries it around and probably talks to it when no one is looking. It’s amazing.
The problem with it is that it looks like a flat mouse.
From a distance, and at a quick glance, it looks like a real flat mouse.
There is one occupant of this house who does not like this fact.
Pretty much every day since it entered the abode we have had a little scream or other startled noise as Carole has come into contact with the aforementioned flat beastie. Because, hilariously, during the night Peppa likes to leave it in front of Carole’s chest of drawers. Just where she’ll walk.
I can’t wait for the day Carole stands on it. And the feeling of the flat mouse, combined with the insane amount of cat dribble that adorns it, sends nerve impulses from the base of the foot all the way to Carole’s brain in next-to-no-time. And there’s an almighty scream and, I reckon, some pretty good air time as she jumps horizontally away from the offending article.
I literally can’t wait.
It’ll be at a ridiculously early hour of the morning but, you know what, I don’t care.
That flat mouse is the best £2.50 I have ever spent.