Sometimes I wonder if Bentley has a death wish — a tiny cat death wish — that, without access to handguns or even the street outside, he is forced to address with substance abuse. For Bentley, that substance comes in the form of plastic bags. (Preferably plastic grocery bags, but in a pinch he’ll take zip lock bags, H&M shopping bags, or even packing tape. He is not proud.) He does not smoke or snort these bags, he simply eats them.
The instant a plastic bag touches the ground in our apartment, Bentley is on it — licking then chewing on it with the side of his mouth, gazing into the distance, glassy eyed. If we let him do this, he will eat and swallow as much of that bag as possible, perhaps even enough to block his adorable kitty intestines until catfood and bits of cheese back up and spew out of his darling eyeballs and pink little nose. So we have become accustomed to coming home, setting down our bags and then gasping and swooping them up again shouting “No! No! No bags, Bentley! You will die!” But he just doesn’t care.
For a while, Ben thought he could fix him by offering him other roughage. He started putting popcorn in his food bowl, and Bentley actually liked it a lot. As adorable as it as to watch him eat popcorn, in Bentley’s mind it clearly had nothing to do with (and no replacement value for) his plastic bags. An alcoholic never said “you know what? I don’t want another drink — I’m too full on popcorn.” So we gave up and went back to trying to eliminate all errant plastic bags, which is nearly impossible.
Every time I come home I worry that I will find him dead, with a Key Foods bag sticking out of his mouth and butt. I will think I have done a good job of cleaning up or throwing away all the plastic in the house, only to come home and find out that his plastic interest now includes bubblewrap and wigs (although sadly, he refuses to wear either.) Or he will start making more effort — you know, if you open up and push over a garbage can, you generally find TONS of plastic bags and cheese wrappers to eat.
Hopefully some day Bentley will come to terms with what’s really bothering him, and stop using altogether. I feel its coming soon. The expression on his face while he chews is no longer “yeah, unh, gimmeethatgoodstuff”, but more of a frantic “jesus, what am i doing? I can’t stop! It’s bigger than all of us!!!” look. I think if he gets some self esteem he’ll be able to see that he doesn’t need to hurt himself with plastic bags and adhesives. Which is why his new advice column is so important to him. He needs to know he has a purpose. Please, if you have any issues or questions about life — write to me and my junkie cat: bentleycrabcakes@gmail.com
We will try to help you, and really — you’ll be helping him.
What Bentley needs is to be scared straight; to come to terms with the reality that plastic is not a good substitute for Meow Mix. And since you’ve already tried bribery and substitution, I’m afraid a little tough love may be in order. He needs to learn to fear the objects of his desire… let’s call it a interactive intervention.
**Disclaimer** While I would never condone this method under normal circumstances, and it’s bound to be condemned by the ASPCA, it might be time to call in the big guns.
To cure Bentley of his hopeless fascination with packing tape, affix a nice big piece to the side of his body (it doesn’t need to be very sticky – somewhat de-sticky it using a tshirt or jeans). Not only will this perplex and mystify him, it will provide many minutes of enjoyment for his roommates. (My best guess at his inner monologue during this procedure: “What the heck is pushing on my side? Maybe if I run sideways, I’ll out-maneuver the rascally beast… arrggghhh! Help Eliza, I promise I’ll never eat tape again!”)
Anyway, I hope this old wive’s cure helps; I’d be very sad if Bentley’s wisdom were no longer available to help those in need…
Oh my god, the image of a cat with a plastic bag coming out both ends will be with me forever. And I will be laughing forever.