I grow my own catnip. Or, rather, my cats' catnip. It's supposed to make a relaxing tea for humans, and I've tried it, but it doesn't do anything for me.
My tortie, Emma, likes her 'nip fresh, straight from the garden. Just crunch a leaf to release the oils, and she's happy. Of course, she also goes berserk over the dried stuff. I have to dry it outside, where she can't get to it, and then crumble it into a big glass jar. When I open the jar, Emma races to stick her head into it. She'd be even happier if she could climb inside and roll around in it.
I figure I've done my duty by growing the stuff and sticking it into basic little fabric bags. Mostly, I make squares with pinked edges that look like fabric ravioli. All of my cats like to pick them up and carry them around the house the way a mom cat carries kittens.
I know, I know. My cats are deprived of all the toys that other cats get. They tell me that all the time. All they get are "ravioli," while other cats get fancy 'nip-filled fish from Etsy. Sob, sob.
If they were more spoiled than they already are, they'd get Etsy fish. I'm torn between two styles as the last word in catnip toys: or .