The Cat in the House

My son, who has taken to crawling on the floor and rubbing against family members’ legs like a cat because he so desperately wants to be a character from the Warriors books, just informed me that he has a sore throat and that in the Warriors books the cats drink honey when they have sore throats so I have to let him drink honey. Uh, no. I granted him a couple of licks of a honeyed spoon, but no way is he going to drink honey. I lectured him on the hazards of choking but am a bit worried. We all know cats don’t follow orders so well.

Then he told me he wants his next open wound to be treated by letting him chew up marigolds so he can spit them out and create a poultice.

And apparently his next headache will be cured by oak bark.

Tomorrow I’ll make him some honeyed tea and have a chat about the merits of adopting medicinal practices from fictional kitties. Will I be more convincing than a medicine cat? That remains to be seen. At the very least, if I find my son prowling around the backyard bushes I’ll know what he’s looking for.