Submarine sandwiches and further chronicles of a crazy cat lady.

I’d heard about this place and I finally tried it out today (I had the tuna salad with provolone and black olives on whole wheat), and it was quite good.

There was also a Petco nearby, which prompted the purchase of several small, furry toy mice and a recycled cardboard-based scratching post in hopes of encouraging Meep to stop shredding the walls and thus sending me spiraling into financial ruin. I’m hoping this one provides a sufficiently hard surface for her claws, since she refuses to use the other two perfectly good scratching posts (or the carpet, which, while not ideal, would be less destructive than the walls) already on hand. The post came with a little packet of catnip to be sprinkled on it so as to allure the cat to use it. I dutifully sprinkled the catnip across the post, which did indeed attract the mooshies’ interest. They began to rub their heads all over it. Seeing that I had their undivided attention, I began to run my fingernails over the post, with the goal of encouraging Meep to do the same (Spartacus, for as high maintenance as he is in other respects, confines his scratching to appropriate surfaces, and thus was not the target audience for this demonstration).

“Look,” I told Meep, “I’m modeling appropriate scratching behavior.”

At which point I glanced over at her and saw her rolling around, blissed out on drugs, and paying not a lick of attention to my positive example.

Oh, well—it was a nice idea. 

What I would like Meep to scratch. 

What Meep likes to scratch.