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Last night we bought a basil plant. Yes, it's August and obviously we are behind the curve with the whole garden program this year. We used to have herbs in the garden, but incidents over the past couple of years (school, car accidents, insane schedules) have taken their toll. Last year's rainfall of biblical proportions which killed everything in my low maintenance, drought tolerant yard didn't help.

I put the little pot of basil in the kitchen and watered it. I noticed that Monte Alban, the gray cat, was interested in it, but hopped down off the counter whenever I walked into the kitchen.

By this morning, he was no longer keeping up the pretense of behaving when I could see him. He was loving that basil plant and purring like a—a thing that purrs a lot. I watched him lick all the leaves and put his teeth on them. He didn't bite the leaves off, like he does with plants that he really likes, so I didn't think too much of it. Then I watched him lick the leaves some more and considered the concept of a tomato, basil and cat spit salad.

At this point, all the leaves have been licked and most bear little toothy bruises. It's not so appetizing anymore.

I wondered why the cat was so into the basil, but it's not a mystery. Catnip is a mint and basil is in the mint family too. (This was "organic" basil, so the grower shouldn't have sprayed anything scary on it.) The basil must have had a little bit of the old nepetalactone, not enough to turn him into a drooling goofy fool, but enough to make him happy and give him the munchies for the rest of the day.

294 words | August 3, 2005 11:00 PM | Felis Major