Our cat Pushkin loves packing peanuts, as apparently he was given some of the biodegradable kind to play with as a kitten.

No problem - we were warned when we adopted him and promptly rid ourselves of any and all packing peanuts in the house (there weren't many).

So the other night, I hear this strange crunching sound. I turn around - dude is sinking his teeth into a packing peanut.

What the hell...? I take it away, give him a (much less satisfying, I'm sure) wedge-shaped mouse.

About two hours later.... crunch, crunch.

Another packing peanut.

This has continued for several days. I kid you not, we have completely GUTTED the basement. No packing peanuts. We even tried following him down - but he suddenly looked like he suspected what we were on about and proceeded to lead us on a wild goose chase.

I'm beginning to believe that there is a wyrmhole in our basement.

In other news, it's 80 degrees out right now. I realize those who live in the south might not be impressed.... but about a month ago, it was 40-something BELOW ZERO.

I imagine the meteorologists never get bored in this state...