Seven spoiled fuzzies

I spoil my cats. I don’t really mean to do it, but it happens. I can’t go into PetsMart and not buy a cat toy (or three.)

Just today I went in for kitty litter, expecting to spend $10 and walk out of there proud of myself for sticking to my tiny, one-item list. Nope. $52 later, I had 16 pounds of cat food (it was on sale!), a 20 pound bag of cat litter (it’ll last me about a month!) and one of these:

 Yes, that’s a cat toy with a catnip-stuffed mouse on a springy stick, and two circular chase-the-ball paths.

As if they needed more cat toys.

These are the same ones who own a cat pirate ship (yes, you read that right), plus three cat cubes that connect together, a fancy scratching lounger, a five-foot-tall double-perch cat tree, and what seem to be a million toy mice.

Yet they seem just as content to play with the foil liner from Josh’s cigarette packs, the plastic rings off of the milk jugs, and random bits of newspaper. Go figure.

However, I still buy them toys every time I go to the pet store. What can I say? I’m a sucker for my cats.    Someday they’ll show their appreciation by peeing in Josh’s shoes while he sleeps.

By the way – this is what greeted me when I got back from the store:

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