Right now I feel helpless and the world holds nothing but crushing defeat.
Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God
Politicians, like diapers, should be changed often.
There once was a pot-head named Spot
Who toked more often than not.
A catnip a day
was no longer a way
to satisfy Spot's jonesin' for the ganja, mon.
Spot, the herb-friendly cat,
flumped down on the lovesac and sat.
She'd smoked all she bought
and suddenly thought,
"Now where is that incense stick at?"
"Catnip won't cut it these days,"
said Spot while mending her ways.
"It don't get me high,
Meowthy, my, my."
She'll never get past this phase.
"Mary Jane and I go way back,"
said Spot (with the toking knack).
"Puffed once as a kitten
and I was quite smitten.
Hey, dude, don't bogart the sack!"
For our one year anniversary, I gave a hemp wallet to raddidge. Once again, Spot found it to be a marvelous wrestling partner. raddidge said, "She's a pothead!" I joked that explained why she's not interested in catnip because she's got a jones for harder stuff.
As you may or may not know, I found Spot declawed and spayed which means that someone knew her and took care of her. Upon reflection, I figure that Spot's former caretakers were potheads. The scene that would always come up in my mind was some college pothead taking a hit then blowing the smoke in Spot's face for some amusement. Eventually Spot learned to enjoy having a smokey dose. Then one warm September evening, a door was left open and a buttery white cat with black spots decided it was time for an evening constitutional.
The most recent event that lends to my pet (pun intended) theory involves incense. On Sunday raddidge and I went to Michael's so I could pick out yarn for one of my December gifts. She picked up a few sticks of incense and upon our return home Spot was investigating the mysterious, long, plastic baggie.
Obviously, hippies use incense to cover up the evidence of their habit.
Of course this could be nonsense and Spot merely has a sensitive nose.
