I'm on the hunt. The hunt for a cat. A cat named Bumpy. The Head Honcho. The Big Cheese. The Whole Enchilada. The Top Pepperoni.
My stomach growled. Maybe I'm hungrier than I thought. I should grab a quick bite before going on this undercover sting operation.
Me, going undercover. I never thought I'd live to see the day. I'm a beat detective. A cat on a mission to overturn every rock in Whisker City, looking for scum and villainy underneath.
There was a time when I thought that scum was cats who pushed catnip on an unsuspecting public. There was a time when I would have beat perps with my bare paws if I even suspected them of carrying any 'Nip.
But not anymore.
Thanks to a courageous cat named Dr. Scratch, I saw the light. One free hit, and I was saved from a lifetime of mistakes. A lifetime of hauling cats away when their only crime is wanting to feel calm and relaxed.
But not everyone I work with sees the world that way. My boss, the Captain, still believes catnip is a scourge upon the masses. A green menace that threatens to undermine the very foundation of this city. In his eyes, guys like Bumpy are slowly putting the world on the brink of anarchy.
I know better, but I have to find a way to convince others. That's why I took this mission.
Oh, right, I'm supposed to be going undercover. Let me grab a quick slice first, then I'll head over to the Hotel Boule de Poils to meet my contact.
The Truth of Cat Crack: Does Catnip Make Cats High?
As I walked into the hotel, my stomach grumbled. But these grumblings weren't because I was still hungry. I just ate a whole pie by myself. No, my stomach was grumbling because I ate pizza from Don Pepe. His pies are swimming in grease, and I'm pretty sure he's been shut down by the health inspector more than a few times.
But, like most cats, Don Pepe has multiple lives. It's hard to keep a cat like that down.
Much like it's hard to keep this pizza down. I wondered if I would have time to hit the bathroom and make a deposit into some kitty litter first. I checked my watch. I'm already late. Maybe it'll be a quick meeting.
I asked the bartender where I could find the one they call "Felin." The bartender pointed me at the elevator. I obliged and went down to the basement.
My stomach groaned loudly. this meeting better be short. The last thing I need is to ruin another pair of underwear. I haven't bought any in the last year, and my supply is running dangerously low.
Both sides of the elevator opened at the same time. A female cat stood in front of me as I ripped a silent fart.
"What is that godawful smell?" Felin asked. At least, I assumed this was Felin.
"I don't know. I smelled it when I came in here," I replied.
"It smells like cheeseburgers, pepperoni pizza, and aged cheese." She fanned her face, trying desperately to wave the gas away from her nose. Part of me was embarrassed, but part of me was impressed by how well she could pick out my last three meals.
"Anyway, are you my contact?" I asked, sheepishly.
"Are you the one who farted?" she asked.
"I don't see how that answers my question," I replied.
"Well, if you lie to me, how can I trust you?" She crossed her arms and stared me down.
I paused for a second. Should I tell her the truth and feel gross in front of this beautiful feline? Feline! That's what her name means. Or, should I lie and save face, just in case she's single?
"Okay, if you're not going to answer, I don't think we can do business." She pressed the door for BL again.
"Wait! It was me. I'm sorry. You're just so pretty, I didn't want to admit it." The words tumbled out of my mouth.
She paused. A pregnant silence filled the elevator as her paw hovered over the button. After a few moments, a tiny fart squeaked out of my butt.
"That's it, we're meeting somewhere else. I'm not going to choke down on your farts while we discuss details."
The doors opened again, and she fled like a cat avoiding a garden hose. Her paws waving frantically back and forth. "Follow me," she coughed.
What Does Catnip Do to Cats?
"How does catnip work exactly?" I asked. Dr. Scratch's explanation was so confusing and full of unnecessary jargon that I never really understood its effects.
"It triggers an olfactory response. When we smell the volatile oil Nepetalactone, it makes us happy and relaxed. Most cats start purring and playing around, while others just chill for a while." Her words were like warm milk pouring into my ears.
"Sounds heavenly," I replied.
My stomach grumbled again, loud enough for her to hear.
"You wearing a wire or something?" She asked.
"No, just too much pizza," I replied.
"I have to check. Can't be too careful these days." She stopped and started frisking me.
It tickled. My natural instinct was to start biting her paws, but I resisted. Suddenly, the gas overtook me, and another "brraap" escaped from my pants. She pulled back in shock and disgust.
"Never mind. The catnip is through here."
She led me through a door, then one of those barriers with plastic strips. The kind they have in like grocery stores and stuff to keep the cold air inside.
As I pushed the heavy plastic aside, I was greeted with the most delightful smell. I gazed in awe at the rows upon rows of catnip plants laid out before me. I practically fell to my knees.
"It's beautiful," I gasped. "Is catnip safe for cats?"
"Yep, we grow and package the catnip right here. I mean, not all of it. This is just one distribution center," she explained.
"Can I get a free hit?" I ask. She cocks her eyebrows in confusion.
"Rule number one, kitten—never get high on your own supply. I'm practically immune myself. I used to use it all the time. Now, it takes hours before I react."
I barely listen to her. I rub my paws gently on the first plant next to me. "So, is that a yes?"
"Whatever. Come to the back room when you're done and we'll discuss details."
Catnip and Cat Crack: A Scourge No More?
By the time I made my way to the back room, my head was swimming. I've never felt so relaxed and at ease. Unfortunately, that also meant I wasn't suppressing my gas.
"Dude, can you hold it in? What did you eat!?" She held her nose.
"Don Pepe's Pizza. Best in town," I replied.
"Yeah, if you want stomach worms. Sit down and try to keep it inside." She motioned for me to sit.
I sat gingerly on the edge of the seat. I felt like too much pressure could trigger a carpet bombing of sorts. "So, what's the deal? What's my route, and what's my take?"
She paused, marinating my words in her brain. "Your route is the South Side of Whisker City. There are a lot of blue-collar cats around there, and many of them need cat nip to manage tension and stress. Your take is five percent. Once you prove yourself, we might bump you up."
"And how much do I get personally?"
"Of the catnip? None, kitten. You want some, you gotta pay like everyone else. Any questions?"
This was it. I was in. The captain would be so proud of me. At least, if I weren't about to bring the whole "catnip is dangerous" narrative down on its head.
"Yeah, when do I get started?"
So it began. My quest to distribute catnip to the feisty felines of this city was now underway. Officially, I'm doing this to bring down Bumpy's syndicate. But unofficially, I'm hoping enough cats see how beneficial catnip is and get the mayor to change his mind.
One day, Whisker City.
One day.
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