By Rodriguez It started with scratch marks. Dozens of tiny, angry lines etched across the soft surface of my favorite pair of clogs. I had just bought them — comfortable, lightweight, and full of quirky personality thanks to their colorful holes. I loved those shoes. Unfortunately, so did my cat.
Tofu, my snow-white rescue cat with a royal attitude, had apparently declared war on them. Every day, I would come home to find her sprawled across the hallway, fiercely kicking at one shoe while digging her claws into the other. The clogs had become her personal scratching post — or worse, her wrestling opponent.
At first, I thought it was a one-time thing. Maybe she was just curious, or bored. But after three days of continuous destruction, I realized this wasn’t a phase. My shoes were under siege.
Naturally, I tried to solve the problem the traditional way.
I bought a cat scratch board — one of those fancy ones with carpet, sisal rope, and even a little ball attached. I placed it right next to the shoes, sprinkled it with treats, and waited for magic to happen. Tofu sniffed it, blinked slowly, and walked away with what I can only describe as pure contempt.
Plan B: citrus spray. I had read somewhere that cats hated the smell of lemons. So I sprayed a bit of diluted lemon juice around the shoes, thinking it would deter her. What I didn’t expect was Tofu licking the floor enthusiastically like it was dessert. She then proceeded to dig her claws into the shoes with renewed energy, as if thanking me for the zest.
I was out of ideas — and nearly out of shoes.
Then one evening, while scrolling through a cat forum, I came across a comment: “Tried everything to keep my cat off my yoga mat. Ended up rubbing it with catnip. She stopped scratching it and just slept on it.”
It sounded ridiculous… but I had nothing to lose.
The next morning, I crushed a few dried catnip leaves and carefully tucked them inside the holes of the clogs. I even pushed a few sprigs deeper inside the shoe cavity. It was like setting a strange little trap — one I hoped Tofu would fall in love with.
And she did.
Within minutes, she discovered the catnip. Her eyes widened, she flopped beside the shoes, and rolled onto her back in sheer bliss. She licked the soles, rubbed her face against the straps, and purred like an old engine. But — miracle of miracles — she didn’t scratch.
Instead, she curled up with her head inside one of the clogs, paws gently wrapped around the toe, and fell asleep.
From that day on, the clogs were no longer victims of daily claw assaults. They became her new favorite nap spot. She stopped scratching the shoes entirely — instead, she carried one to the couch like a toy, sometimes even grooming it like it was a kitten.
Visitors would laugh when they saw it. “Is that… a shoe?” they’d ask, pointing at the scene of Tofu snuggling a half-chewed clog like a stuffed animal.
“Yes,” I’d say, “that used to be my shoe.”
Eventually, I gave in. I bought a new pair for myself and officially surrendered the old ones to Tofu. I even glued a little patch of felt inside one, added more catnip, and decorated the sides with cartoon stickers. It became a toy. A bed. A chew-proof comfort object. A cat accessory with a history.
And so, the clogs were reborn — from comfortable footwear to a feline’s favorite cuddle companion.
I still shake my head when I see her asleep with her chin resting on the rubber sole. But at least now, the only scratches I find are the ones that tell a story — one of stubborn cats, ruined shoes, and an unexpected friendship between paws and plastic.