Love-Hate Relationship

Our cat, Penny, has a favorite toy: a pink, slightly worn octopus with half the tentacles most octopi have and which seems to be missing any facial characteristics. Nevertheless, Penny has the most intense love/hate relationship with her octopus. I've never seen her bit, scratch, and kick anything like that poor pink creature. It must be the devil incarnate because she goes after it with a vengeance. The octopus is even more enchanting because it contains catnip and makes a rattling sound, and the combination is irresistible to hedonist Penny. If we dangle the octopus in front of her and make it rattle, or if we dangle, rattle, and throw it, she leaps after it like a bat out of hell and proceeds to chomp on it until it's most certainly dead (at least enough to meet Penny's criteria of "dead").

I don't particularly agree with this, but some people say that there is a thin line between love and hate. However, I will make one exception: in Penny's case, where there is loathing, adoration is not far behind. One trick that we were taught to keep her mind active is to hide different toys for a brief period of time and then reintroduce them. It must be like being reunited with money that you forgot was in your pocket and discover a few weeks later. The funniest scene always occurs when the famous pink faceless octopus reappears on the scene without warning. We always hide it in Penny's bed high up on the windowsill. At some point, she ambles across the living room, scrambles up the couch, and starts to get into bed for a catnap, when who should greet her but her archenemy/object of desire! She becomes beside herself with joy, and during the first day or two of rediscovering her toy, she forgets altogether that half the time she tries to rip its tentacles off. She curls up with her beloved octopus and begins to lick it, then falls asleep with it between her paws.