Harris and his toy
Harris loves our new pole toy, which has a thick wad of pheasant feathers attached to a leather cord. He commandeers it and crouches with it in his mouth, growling, for as long as I'll let him. We love his growling; he reminds us of Christopher Walken in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I finally stop him when I can't stand his breath from where I'm sitting. By that point, everyone else who'd be waiting for their turn with toy will leave it alone because it's now soaked with Harris's saliva. It's a pure win for Harris.
Soundtrack: "Grrrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrrrrrr."
Yesterday, I got him a new toy, a little green thing that has dried mint wrapped in tough mesh that cats can chew with abandon. Cats are supposed to love the taste of mint, which is supposed to freshen their breath. I presented it to Harris. He knocked it to the floor, jumped down to sniff it, and walked away. Not so much.