Saturday night and I'm preparing to fire up the grill and throw a coupla steaks on. Before I head outside to 'que, I mix up a batch of Martinis made with "ridiculously good" Hendricks Gin, pour myself one, and set it on my basement bar. I then walk over to select a bottle of wine to serve with dinner.
When I return to the bar, I recoil in horror as I see one of our cats, Lola, standing with her hind paws on a bar stool, her face on the bar, tongue in my Martini. Tongue in my Martini!?!? It wasn't like she just had a sample sip out of curiosity either. She was lapping it up like a saucer of milk. Unbelievable.
After shooing her away, I kept a close eye on her the rest of the night to make sure she didn't suffer any adverse reactions to the booze. She seemed fine, if a little more laid back than normal. In the future, I'll be mindful not to turn my back on my Martini when she's in the room. Cats dig gin. Who knew?
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