The Cat Grass Conundrum: Clutch’s Fetish For Foliage

Of all my indoor cats, only Clutch tries to shimmy his way through a gap in the door. Fortunately, he is the antithesis of stealth, meowing loudly to announce his escape, and immediately coming to a stop upon finding a suitably lush and delicious patch of grass to munch on. This is very much a fair-weather enterprise, so I never have to worry about chasing him through rain or hail, only shine.

With his mild inflammatory bowel problem, Clutch tends to enjoy the positive digestive effects of grazing, but I have to limit his exposure to the green stuff. If left to his own devices, he will destroy an enormous mound of grass in a single sitting, and then suffer the intense emetic (vomit-inducing) effects that come from overindulgence. I provide one or two planters with cat grass inside their outdoor catio, but I have to make sure they don’t become overgrown.

Paved Paradise

I will never forget the look of confusion, shortly followed by disgust, the first time Clutch darted into our back garden after we had replaced the patchy, dog-destroyed grass with the artificial variety. As he explored the four corners of the ‘plastic monstrosity,’ I swear I could hear him thinking: What fresh hell is this? An unfortunate consequence of this particular garden makeover is that Clutch has redoubled his efforts to dart through the narrowest gap in the front door, taking advantage of our numerous parcel deliveries. Luckily, we live on a quiet cul-de-sac, and the only real danger is from the obligatory cat-hating grumpy old man at the end of the street – every neighborhood seems to have at least one!

Clutch was even more devastated when many of the occupants of our little street paved over their front gardens, trading a small grassy patch for much-needed parking space, further shrinking his munching opportunities. On a positive note, it has made it much easier for me to give chase, as his options are now somewhat limited. You could say that Clutch’s plight has become a metaphor for the world’s ever-shrinking natural habitats. He is Joni Mitchell, lamenting the fact that ‘we paved paradise to put up a parking lot,’ so to speak.

No Indoor Jungle for Me

While the amount of accessible grass around the house has reduced, much to Clutch’s chagrin, his fetish for foliage is the reason our indoor greenery has been seriously reined in. His propensity for gorging on greenery means that I can’t even enjoy cat-friendly plants inside the house without coming downstairs to a sprinkling of half-digested leaves, stems, and petals each morning. Husband’s beloved bonsai has been banished to the downstairs loo, floral arrangements are re-gifted or relegated to the patio, and the only plants that are safe from Clutch’s herbivorous pursuits are either cacti or fake.

Clutch has never tried to chew a cactus, for obvious reasons, but he also avoids the non-spikey succulent types, giving me a few more options to choose from. More recently, however, he has taken to using some of my smaller cacti for another purpose: a pillow, proving yet again that cat logic is very different from ours. Most of the time, I would argue that theirs is usually superior, but clearly, there are exceptions to the rule.