I know a woman who makes pillows of cat nip. Every now and then, she gives me two sachets for my cat.
“You have to scrunch them up first,” she advises me each time.
I lived in Toronto and never knew the people who lived around me. The cranky neighbour who said I listened to my music too loud. The people who never let their dog inside.
This woman spotted me at Tim Horton’s recently and came over to place a baggie of new cat treats in my hand. She said:
“You have to scrunch them up first.”
I thought, I am home.