Homemade Cat Food Recipe: Slayer's Famous Catnip-Seasoned Long Pork

You may have come to this article expecting comedy and satire from Shadesbreath. But Shadesbreath is, no surprise, suffering from a horrendous hangover today, it being Saturday and all, and, therefore, he is unable to write the article he had committed to. Being the anal-retentive fellow that he is—or something—and not wanting to leave the task undone, he asked that I write this particular article for him (as evidenced by the video above).

For those of you who do not know me, I am Slayer, one of the two cats his wife serves with great dedication and obedience. For those of you who have heard of me, yes, I am the very same cat of whom Shadesbreath, in his infinitely hilarious way, found it so F-ing funny to post a picture online, one taken during the indelicate moments of my using the catbox, or, as my sister Hallie and I prefer, my having been "at the beach." So, in keeping with that just paw-slappingly clever level of comicality that Shadesbreath has convinced himself he has, I will do my best to amuse you, his readers, in his stead. And while a few of you may wonder, given that I am doing this rather than him, whether you might miss out on the scribbling he calls art that so often accompany his little rants and tirades, don’t worry, you won’t. I assure, I do not need an opposable thumb to reproduce that kind of idiotic scrawl.

This article I am about to write is something that Shadesbreath's oh-so-funny photograph set me to thinking about some time ago, and I feel that perhaps the universe is smiling upon me today, maybe even preparing me for an approaching opportunity here in these dog days of summer—oh how fun irony is—and I can only hope that, as he sleeps off his most recent indulgence, I might… um, well, never mind. Let’s go on with it shall we? So, that said, please enjoy my first article, and, most importantly, pay attention because, well, … just pay attention. Especially if you have a cat.

You will need a large cauldron (100 gallon capacity minimum). If you don't have one, arrangements can be made to overheat a hot tub or Jacuzzi, but you'll need an electrician who is not particularly scrupulous, and you'll want to quadruple the amount of garlic and catnip I have specified so your cats don't complain that they can still taste chlorine. We have very sensitive taste buds, in case you didn't know (which is why we don't eat our own feces like dogs do, but I digress).

You will also need a siphon (unless you are using the Jacuzzi, in which case the drain already included will suffice), a very large saucepan and a clean five-gallon bucket.

Ingredients:

Long pork, whole (I suggest a tall, fat one that fancies himself a great wit)

10 tbsp. salt

2 lbs Catnip (catmint)

½ lbs Catnip (lemon catnip)

3 cups oregano

12 cloves mashed garlic

2 tbsp. chopped onion

4 diced mouse livers (chicken livers may be substituted if you are cheap or lazy)

½ lbs cornstarch

1 gallon high quality cream

1 red apple

Place long pork into cauldron. It is much more fun to do this while it is still alive, but they can make a fuss, so if you must claw it to death in its sleep, so be it. Fill cauldron with water until long pork is covered, add salt, and then bring to boil. (If you are working with live long pork, this is by far the most gratifying portion of the whole enterprise, and you can say things like "Hah hah, who's crapping now, asshole?" as your meal thrashes about in screaming agony… or, of course, you can say something else to it if my idea doesn't resonate with you.) Boil until it stops thrashing and, eventually, its eyes pop out.

Once it's beady little sarcastic eyes dangle like slimy white balls of yarn from its not-smiling-so-much-now-are-you face, you'll want to skim off the grease floating on the top and collect it in your 5-gallon bucket. Once you've captured this flavorful gravy base, get your siphon hose and drain off fluid until your long pork is only half submerged.

Add catnip, oregano, garlic and onions to cauldron, stir thoroughly, and let simmer. (Save one sprig of catmint for garnish.) By now your cats will be going crazy with desire and you may find that the weak-minded amongst them can suddenly recognize their names and will even respond to such ridiculous enticements as you tapping on your thigh and calling, "Here kitty kitty." What can I say? We are only mortal too.

Let cauldron simmer for an hour and a half, then turn your long pork over. Be careful as at this point, it will likely fall apart, it's doughy white limbs tumbling in the boil and its bloated fingers unlikely to ever take another photograph, and, of course, I don't want you to get burned. Let simmer for another half hour.

While that's cooking, place your very large saucepan over medium heat. Fill it half way with the drippings you skimmed into your five-gallon bucket and add your four diced mouse livers. The strong flavor of the mouse livers will mask any unpleasantness that may have been released into the broth during the long pork's initial spasms while coming to a boil.

In a separate pan, dissolve about a half-pound of cornstarch in water, using just enough water to make a paste. Stir that into your gravy mixture with a wire whisk until it begins to thicken. Add high quality cream as it thickens to maintain the consistency you want, and continue doing so for about five minutes. It is perfectly fine if you use a lot of cream, especially if you don't try to substitute that disgusting 2% excuse for milk you buy, and god help you if you use 1% milk because your cats will attack you and throw you into the pot too if you try that bullshit. So don't. We're watching you and we don't care if we have that dangly little pooch on our bellies from having the extra fat in our dairy products. We like our pooch, frankly, and you know you think it's cute too, so just stop with the 1%.

Once it's done, arrange your long pork on a large tray, cover with gravy, and stuff the remaining sprig of catnip in its ass, because it's so funny to pay attention to what's going on with the backsides of your fellow creatures, as we all know. And for the final touch, jam that apple in its big, fat mouth so that it will never har-dee-har-har at you when you are… at the beach…again.

Serves 12 to 20 cats.