The Khat Who Became a Hero 3

China Follows a Few Clues

Previously: On Tuesday morning, the Thyme & Seasons shop cat, Khat K’o-Kung, does not report for work. China Bayles, the shop’s owner, becomes concerned that he is missing. Khat, also feeling that something important is missing from the herb shop, has invited a friend to help remedy the situation.

If you missed an episode or just want to review, Episode 1 is here. Episode 2 is here. And if Episode 3 is too long to read as an email, you can read it in your browser.

On Wednesday morning, China expected Khat to meet her at the door. but he was still AWOL. His bowl of kibbles hadn’t been touched and she was getting very worried, as I’m sure you would be, if this were your cat. She went through the door to the Crystal Cave, but Ruby hadn’t heard from him, either.

“Not even a postcard,” she joked.

China smiled, although she didn’t think it was funny. (You and I might, since we learned in the last episode that Ruby and Khat have their ways of communicating.)“Well, would you mind keeping an eye on the shop while I look for him?”

“Glad to,” Ruby said, and went back to dusting the crystals. “When you find him, tell him hello from me.”

China went out to the shed to get the bike that she and Ruby share for local errands. That’s when Miss Lula, the yappy Pekinese who lives across the alley with old Mr. Cowan, dashed out of the shrubbery and snapped at her sneaker. She muttered a few nasty words under her breath and Mr. Cowan rose out of the bushes, a camera in one gnarled hand and a bird book in the other.

“Don’t you kick sweet little Miss Lula,” he growled.

“I wasn’t going to kick her,” China replied untruthfully. The dog danced around her, cursing in fluent Mandarin. Miss Lula is about the size of a half-grown possum, but she has teeth like a piranha. “I’m looking for my shop cat,” she said. “The Siamese. Have you seen him?”

“Lost, is he?” Mr. Cowan inquired hopefully. “Run away? Flattened by a car, mebbee?”

China shuddered. “I hope not, but he’s been missing since yesterday morning and I’m concerned.”

“Good riddance,” Mr. Cowan announced cheerfully. “The birds around here ’ud be a whole lot chirpier if all the cats in the neighborhood was outa the picture. Why, just yesterday, Miss Lula caught that one of yours stalkin’ a grackle. He woulda got him, too, if Miss Lula hadn’t let him have it with both barrels.” 

The Pecan Springs City Council spends thousands of dollars a year to make life unpleasant for the grackles, so we mustn’t blame China for thinking it wasn’t sporting of Miss Lula to keep a cat from doing his bit on behalf of clean windshields. But she only sighed and said, “If you see Khat, let me know, will you?”

“Don’t count on it,” Mr. Cowan said maliciously. “Grackles is noisy but I got a soft spot in my heart for ’em. They eat the beetle grubs outa the lawn.” He frowned. “I told Cass she could have my cherry tomatoes for some party she’s doin’. Got plenty of zucchini, too. Tell her she better get over here and pick ’em ’fore the coons do. I got me a mama coon and two babies livin’ under the shed. Cutest little guys on four feet—’ceptin’ you, Miss Lula,” he added fondly.

“I’ll tell her,” China said, wondering if the presence of a mother raccoon in the neighborhood might have anything to do with Khat’s extended absence. She didn’t think a raccoon would attack a cat, especially one as large as Khat, but you never knew. Shaking her head, she got on her bike.

“Now git.” Mr. Cowan sat back down in the bushes. “Yer scarin’ the birds away.” Miss Lula snarled as China rode off.

A few houses down, on the other side of the street, she saw Fannie Couch on her knees beside her flower border, a trowel in her hand. As you know if you’ve read Fannie’s short story, she has her own radio talk show, “Fannie’s Back Fence,” on KPST-AM. She is a sturdy, stocky woman, with sharp features and short gray curls. This morning, she was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and was enveloped, chin to ankles, in a loose brown cotton caftan. She looked like a medieval monk tending the colorful border: bright orange nasturtiums and zinnias, sunny yellow marigolds and yellow gerbera daisies, stately orange cannas with lime-green leaves.

“Good morning, Fannie,” China called. They know one another from various neighborhood projects, and both she and Ruby have been guests on “The Back Fence.” “I’m looking for Khat. Have you see him?”

Fannie frowned. “If I had,” she said shortly, “I’d have taken the fly-swatter to his royal backside.”  She gestured. “Have a look.”

Apprehensive, China got off her bike and joined Fannie. “Uh-oh,” she said, bending over to peer at a dozen young green plants, broken and  mangled, roots drying pitifully in the sun. “Looks like catnip.”

“You don’t have to tell me what it is.” Fannie got to her feet. “I put those plants in yesterday morning, straight out of their baby pots. Yesterday afternoon, when I got home from the library, a cat was having a high old time in this bed.” Her frown deepened to a scowl. “A very high time. Your cat.”

“Khat? Oh, dear! I’m so sorry. I’ve been looking for him but—”

Fannie wasn’t finished. “What’s more, this is the third time! Last year, I put a few in the kitchen window box. Mrs. Martin’s cat jumped up and uprooted every single catnip plant, along with two scented geraniums and some parsley. And last month, I set out another batch under a chicken-wire hoop, hoping to outwit the darned cats. It didn’t help. The beastly fiends rolled up the wire, hid it behind the garage, and then went to work on the catnip.”  She gave a despairing sigh. “Wretched creatures. Why can’t they leave it alone?”

China chuckled at the comic exaggeration, but she knew how her friend felt. “On behalf of Khat and his colleagues,” she said, “I apologize. But the problem is that cats can’t leave it alone. They’re catnip junkies, you know—genetically programmed to react to the volatile oils, which they can smell from an amazing distance. I’ve read some research that suggests that cats can pick up the scent of catnip from a mile away.” She paused. “I’ll bring you a dozen replacement plants. But to tell the truth, Fannie, there are so many cats in a one-mile radius that you might have better luck raising it from seed.”

Fannie narrowed her eyes. “From seed? Won’t that be even easier for them to tear up?” She pointed. “Look! That cat must have been rolling in it! Every catnip plant is mashed flat. And all the plants around them, too. What a mess!”

China nodded. “Ever heard the old saying, ‘If you set it, the cats will get it. If you sow it, they won’t know it’?”

Fannie shook her head and China explained. “When you set out transplants, the leaves inevitably get bruised. The oils are released and the neighborhood cats come running. When you start catnip from seed, the plants may be able to grow to maturity before the leaves get bruised. And once you get it started, it’ll self-seed. After all, it’s a mint. And you know how enthusiastic the mints can be. The next spring, you’ll have twice as many.”

 “Sounds like it might work,” Fannie said. “I’ll give it a try.” She glanced at China under the brim of her hat. “You’re looking for Khat? You’ve lost him?” She sighed. “He’s no gentleman where catnip is concerned, but otherwise, he’s a charmer. He comes around every now and then for a snack. I’m always happy to oblige.”

“Maybe a calorie-free snack?” China suggested. “We’re trying to keep his weight down. But I haven’t seen him since Monday afternoon and I’m getting worried. Call me if he comes around again, will you?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll put out the word on the ‘Back Fence.’ Somebody may have seen him.” She picked up her trowel. “By the way, please tell Cass that I’m looking forward to Friday’s luncheon.”

“You’re a football mom?” China was a little surprised. (News to me, too. I’ve never imagined Fannie as a football fan.)

“I’m a football grandma,” Fannie corrected her proudly. “My youngest granddaughter is the star placekicker on the team. I never miss a game.” She gave China a curious look. “Somebody said that Cass is serving a salad with marinated bocce balls. I was wondering just how . . .”

“Not bocce,” China amended. “Bocconcini. Cheese balls. You know, mozzarella.”

“Oh, mozzarella!” Fannie smiled. “Well, that’s a relief. My son threw a bocce ball through my in-laws’ window once. Somebody mentioned that Cass has been to gourmet school, and we thought maybe they’d taught her a trick or two about marinating wooden balls.”

It was all China could do to keep from rolling her eyes as she said goodbye, got on her bike, and rode off down the block, scanning the yards for any sign of Khat.

I have to admit to wondering, too. Where is that cat? What has he been up to, besides stalking grackles and rolling in catnip? Are we ever going to find out?

And now for those extras!

Cats and Catnip

As Michael Pollan points out in This Is Your Mind On Plants, we humans are hardwired to respond to certain psychoactive plant chemicals in certain ways: to the caffeine in coffee, for instance; to the THC in cannabis; to the nicotine in tobacco; and to the morphine and codeine alkaloids in the opium poppy. Plants do definitely mess with our minds. And our bodies.

Catnip—your kitty’s recreational drug of choice—has a similarly intoxicating effect on cats. Catnip leaves contain a chemical called nepetalactone, which some cats can smell up to a mile away. This chemical mimics a cat’s pheromones (its chemical communications with other cats). When your cat smells catnip, she may display affection, relaxation, and happiness, while your neighbor’s cat may feel like doing somersaults off the roof or (sometimes) baring his fangs and taking a claws-out swipe at his best buddy. Alice Morse Earle, in her 1901 Old Time Gardens, writes:

The sight o f a cat in this strange ecstasy over a bunch of catnip always gives me a half-sense of fear; she becomes such a truly wild creature, such a miniature tiger.

About 60% of cats are genetically programmed to turn on to nepetalactone. Our PK (a Siamese) was one of these. Catnip was a powerful euphoric for him. But OJ, our orange tabby, apparently lacked the gene. He never got the message. “What’s all the fuss about?” he would say, watching PK make a fool of himself over the catnip.

Catnip apparently gets something out of this exchange, too. The destruction of the leaves amplifies the plant’s natural chemical defenses against leaf-chomping bugs. Crushed leaves (compared to intact leaves) emit more of the volatile compound called iridoid, which acts as an insect repellant, protecting the plants against leaf-chewing bugs.

Catnip Keeps the Bugs Off

It’s true, really! The same compound that the plant uses as self-defense has been found to repel mosquitos better than DEET, the active ingredient in most repellants. Be sure that what you’re getting is pure catnip essential oil. To use on your skin, dilute it with a mild carrier oil (5 drops per teaspoon of carrier oil). And try a test patch, to make sure it doesn’t cause a rash.

Catnip in the Garden

The repellent oils that keep bugs off make catnip a great garden companion. Plant it near pumpkin, squash, broccoli, cauliflower, potatoes, collards, and beets. For a list of the bugs that don’t like it, look here.

“If you sow it, the cats won’t know it.” What China tells Fannie is generally true. Start plants from seed where you want them to grow, and be careful not to crush the leaves or stems when you thin them.

If you start with transplants and if there are wayward cats in your neighborhood, you might try plant hoops like these, covered with chicken wire, to protect the plant babies until they’re established. An arrangement like this might have dissuaded Khat—or maybe not. Some cats are pretty determined to get at their favorite fix. 🙄

Catnip (also frequently called catmint) belongs to the mint family and enjoys plenty of sun and regular watering. Like its self-assertive mint cousins, it likes to go places, so you may have to find a way to keep it where you want it. It will help to remove the emerging buds—that will also encourage stronger leaf growth. Dead-heading blooms before they go to seed will reduce next year’s volunteers.

Medicinal Catnip

Traditionally, catnip has been used as a sedative and a treatment for nervousness, colds, flu, indigestion, intestinal problems, and menstrual disorders. Because it can cause uterine contractions, it was also used as an abortifacient, along with rue, thyme, and Queen Anne’s lace. Learning Herbs has a fairly comprehensive report.

Catnip in the Kitchen

Although catnip doesn’t appear in many modern recipes, you may find it in Italian salads, sauces, soups, egg dishes, and vegetables, and in Middle Eastern cookery. If you have lots of fresh catnip, you might experiment with a pesto. And here is a mint salsa verde with the strongly competing tastes of capers, garlic, and mustard. Catnip (pungently mint-like with a bitter note) could hold its own with these other strong flavors.

Remember Euell Gibbons, the famous forager who wrote Stalking the Wild Asparagus? He suggested candied catnip after-dinner mints, good for digestion: catnip leaves dipped in beaten egg white and lemon juice, dusted with white sugar, and dried for about 48 hours—away from your kitty.

And before China tea was available, catnip tea was the usual tea in England and throughout Europe. This recipe makes 2 cups hot; double for 4 or iced.

• 20-30 fresh catnip leaves/flowers or 4 teaspoons dried. For different flavors, add mint, thyme, or rosemary

• 2 cups just-boiled water

• 1 teaspoon sugar or honey (optional), use more or less to taste

Rinse catnip and other herbs, if fresh, and crush. Place in a strainer in a teapot and fill with just-boiled water. Cover pot and steep 10-15 minutes. Serve hot, with lemon if desired, or iced.

Catnip in Folk History

'In her 1911 book, The Herb Garden, Frances Bardswell writes:

The root [of catnip] when chewed is said to make the most gentle person fierce and quarrelsome. There is a legend of a certain hangman who could never screw up his courage to the point of hanging anybody till he had partaken of it.

This passage was the source of the title of the third book in China’s series, Hangman’s Root. I was interested the idea that an herb whose aerial parts (leaves and stems) were considered calming might have a root that was thought to produce the opposite effect. I’m still wondering how that intriguing piece of herbal folklore evolved.