Hearing about Tesla and his three days of catnip boycott made Anton smile even more. What kind of true-blue, self-respecting cat could possibly ignore catnip? For three freaking days?! He took about two steps away from Stella, saying with obvious glee in his voice, “Watch this, watch this.”<br/><br/>He raised his right hand, index finger extended, as if he was saying “We’re #1.” He moved it to the right in a slow arc, as if doing a loop-the-loop. Now moving it left, he traced a slow zig-zag pattern. Finally, he moved it up and down, and then left to right. Both cats’ eyes followed that finger as if their lives (one of nine, anyway) depended on it. What made this so amusing, at least to Anton, was that<i>just their eyes </i>tracked his moving finger. They were so buzzed on the ‘nip that they couldn’t be arsed to move anything else, not even their heads.<br/><br/>Turning back to Stella, he said with a rascally grin on his face, “I dunno about you, but where’s that catnip mouse? I want some of that! That must be some good shit.” Now that he’d just said it, he wondered where that mouse had disappeared to. Since it wasn’t in plain sight, he assumed it was tucked under one of them, most likely Tesla, as he seemed to produce a noticeable expanse when he lay down.<br/><br/>Previously quite taken with the felines’ talent for entertainment, a minor tidbit of information just crossed his mind. “Did you just quote Pink Floyd when you first came in?” he asked her. “That’s too funny, as I considered spinning either<i>Dark Side Of The Moon </i>or<i>The Wall </i>for their baked, listening enjoyment.” He laughed at the coincidence.