Recently I had the tingly sensation of reading MATZOH AND MISTLETOE by Jodie Griffin. First I looked up matzoh. It’s a brittle, flat piece of unleavened bread. Blech. Not very interesting to cats, unless it has butter on it, but that’s probably not kosher. Then I looked up mistletoe. It’s a parasitic shrub that is often toxic to cats. Going into this book, you can say I had my doubts. The tingly sensation was clearly my innate Spidey-cat sense of danger, which I always listen to. It is rapidly proceeded by racing to another room.
I read a lot of mystery, so this erotic romance was a throbbing change of pace. It literally THROBBED with danger as I turned the pages. Throb, throb, throb, like a human heartbeat when you’re perched on their chest in the middle of the night staring intently into their face. In some ways it reminded me of the book BAD KITTY, a wonderful and accurate children’s book featuring a rotten cat, except with adult characters faced with hastily pretty situations. By hastily pretty I mean it was like the characters knew somebody was about to come over, and they hadn’t cleaned their house in weeks, so they had to rush around with the vacuum cleaner and scare the whizz out of their cats. Never a good thing.
The book starts off with protagonists Jeremy and Becca faced with a tasteless challenge. Granted, I’ve heard it said cats don’t have an acute sense of taste when it comes to sweetness, so for all I know their challenge could have been made of sugar. Boooooo-ring! Both characters behave intently about this. Normally when humans get all riled up by sweet, sugary challenges, they behave spastically, almost catlike, which is hilarious, so the intentness of these characters was unrealistic.
All that danger and intentness and lack of spazz was repaired, though, when Oscar the cat is introduced, in a scene involving jumping jacks. That’s where the plot really starts to get furry. Furry FTW! Oscar is sleepily no Kermit the Frog. Kermit is a goody two shoes green felt piece of pushover puppet, and Oscar likes to sleep in inconvenient places while waiting for his Spidey-cat sense to send him dashing into another room. Usually a room where Jeremy and Becca are once again trying to clean the house too fast, so Oscar’s dashing out AGAIN, after a swat at the human’s leg, was always great fun to see depicted on the page.
But don’t even get me started about Hannah. The involvement of Hannah in the narrative will leave readers sleeping. Not like Oscar, but like a human who won’t wake up and feed you. A very dull character indeed. The story stealthily continues until it seems all carrots are lost, probably under the stove in the kitchen or maybe the couch. The ending will sing to you. (Note: cats don’t like singing, unless it’s a little ditty about opening cans of tuna.) The pace was like riding in a Jeep with a driver who is in the buff on a road that winds through blue mountains. Humans in the buff are scary, scary things with nowhere near enough hair to sustain the furriness of the sections of the book that involve Oscar.
Poor Oscar, trapped in this book with these intently sleeping, house cleaning humans! Well, at least they were pretty good about getting his carrots out from under the stove so he could knock them back again.
If you are looking for a way to spend 6 months — it takes that long because you have to keep running out of the room while you’re reading it — this book is definitely an option. The characters and plot are so swollen compared to other books on the market today. Granted, the feline content in the book was a quarter of what it should be, which could have been better, but no author is completely round. I do prefer round humans for sitting on, and while I like that my writer human sits a lot, she could be rounder and softer. All in all, this was a red tale about sadness (because of the poisonous shrubs and boring unleavened bread), working (to clean the house) and stress and panic (when Oscar had to leave the room quickly). You will be aroused to cheer for Oscar if you pick this one up!
Rating: 69 laser pointers and a thick piece of zucchini, which is in no way as cool as one of those baby carrots. In fact, a slice of zucchini kind of sticks to the tile floor in the kitchen and won’t roll anywhere.