The plain brown envelope arrived yesterday. It was sitting by the door when I got home from work. As I stooped to pick it up I heard frantic scratching noises on the other side of the door, sounds as if my docile little housecats had turned into raging tigers. I looked at the return address on the package. Sure enough the CatClaws order had arrived and Rusty and Minnie could smell it though the door.

I held the package close as I opened the door cautiously and stepped over the threshold thinking I could run straight for the kitchen and slide the pocket door closed before the attack. No such luck. Rusty was climbing up my pant leg before I got past the entry tile. Minnie tagged behind yowling like a cat with its tail stuck in a rat trap. I kicked a ball across the room hoping to distract the beasts. Rusty’s claws sunk deep into my thigh and Minnie yowled louder. I threw the package into the kitchen figuring that at least Minnie would chase after it and I’d have a chance to remove Rusty’s claws from my bloody thighs. Minnie took the bait; Rusty and I fought over the proper way to extract him from my pant leg. Once released, he raged into the kitchen.

As I searched through the cat toy basket for a couple of refillable mice, Rusty and Minnie tore into the CatClaws package. For a moment I debated whether I should just let them rip it apart and enjoy the contents but visions of extra fine, premium catnip from one end of the apartment to the other discouraged that behavior. Finally bolstering up my courage, I grabbed for the now shredded package. Four paws of claws clutched at my hands as I swiped the goods. I raced for the bathroom, slammed the door behind me and stood against the door. There were two distinct howls accompanied by head slamming bangs against the door. Then silence. Egaad, I thought I killed them. I took a deep breath, and before I could release it, the fierce attack scratches began again.

In my angst over having a bathroom door shredded beyond repair, I spilled more catnip into the sink than into the refillable mice. About the time the mouse bellies were full and sufficiently Velcro sealed the phone rang. Sure that it was the landlord inquiring about the commotion in apartment 106, I hastened to finish the job. Working up my courage, on my tiptoes, hand above my head, I opened the door just enough to toss out the ammunition. Rusty grabbed both mice, tore into the kitchen. Minnie sauntered into the bedroom with a nonchalant shrug. Twenty minutes later they were both sound asleep at the foot of my bed.