Blame It on Pica

Blame It On Pica

As I’ve mentioned before, I love eating fabric. It doesn’t really matter what kind it is or where it comes from as long as I can suck on it and gnash it between my teeth. Unfortunately, this behavior is unpopular with the bipedal folks.

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A holey nightgown.

No, I am not discriminating when it comes to the source of my snack. Mr. Biscuit is an equal-opportunity textile eater. I can understand, conceptually, when my humans are upset because a nightgown suddenly grows an enormous hole or part of a sweater is missing, but is it any of their business when I try to eat my blankets or the toys they buy specifically for me to chew on? This is called a rhetorical question.

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A sweater.

Why don’t I stop? It just feels so good, like the cords of their chargers, one of which I was fortunate enough to wrap my fangs around this past week in grandma’s closet. My humans say it’s a syndrome called pica and I am disinclined to disagree with them. Sure, it’s totally pica. I can’t help it.

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A bed sheet.

WedMD, a site people love to use to diagnose imaginary diseases, says pica is “the urge to eat nonfood items,” adding that it “can be pretty common in cats.” There you go! Case closed. The page goes on to list possible causes for this behavior, but I fell asleep halfway through. What can I say? Naps happen.

So blame it on pica. It’s an urge I can’t control. And even if I could, why would I? What’s life without life’s pleasures? If you’ve never tried it, I encourage you to start chewing on a nearby piece of garment; you might be surprised how much you like it. You can thank me later for providing you with the perfect excuse: it’s pica. Totally.

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