Oh. It's you. Hey.
So, if you came here expecting to hear from Lisa today, you're up a scratching post without your front claws, 'cause she's not here. In honor of my 8th birthday, she's allowing me the privilege of being a guest blogger on her site.
Well, actually, that's not true. The truth is, she's in the other room getting herself another cup of coffee (caffeine-addicted wench) and she left her browser window open, so I have to make this quick. The keyboard on this Mac makes it tough to type (I'm a PC feline, myself) so forgive any typos.
So, today is my 8th birthday. Whoopdy-frickin'-doo. Cats don't really celebrate birthdays, per se, because EVERY day is our special day. If only you humans would treat us as the gods we truly are, the world would be a much better place. The Ancient Egyptians were so wonderful in that regard. *sigh* The good old days.
Of course, my Amy has something special planned for me. She thinks I don't know, but she does it every year. I have the whole, "What?!? Oh, you guys, is this for ME?" look downpat, so I'll have to be sure to trot it out later when she "surprises" me with some wet food in a crystal serving dish with one of those flaming wax sticks in the middle that I hate. A candle, she calls it. Every year she tells me to make a wish, and every year, I wish she'd take the darn thing and pitch it right at Tiger--just for laughs, mind you--but she never does. She ends up blowing it out and giving me a scratch behind the ears, which was the other thing I would have wished for anyway.
Some of you might be wondering if cat years work the same way that dog years do. Let me clear up any misconceptions right now: THEY DON'T. In fact, there is absolutely NOTHING feline that even remotely compares to anything canine. Got that? Good.
In cat years, I'm as old as I damn well want to be. Humans could take a lesson from us cats, I tell you that right now. No mid-life crises or existential melt-downs when you're a cat. You just live your lives (all 9 of them) and take each day as it comes. Don't think about what's happened in the past (that old couch needed shredding anyway) and don't worry about the future (I've got a hairball due to arrive in about an hour, yet do I look worried?). Just live for the moment, and remember:
Cats rule.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do some serious lounging in the front hall. But don't worry--as soon as that hairball starts to show itself, I'll make sure I move to the rug in the dining room. Wouldn't want to mess up the nice tile floor, now would we.
Ha! (sorry, cat humor. Most humans don't get it. S'okay.)
I'm outta here. Later, peeps.
Mittens
O holy and most wise and beautiful Mittens, Hail! May I, a puny and insignificant human, congratulate you on your truly staggering typing skills! I hope all of your wishes will come true, on this, the celebration of your most auspicious arrival in our humble world. Your humble servant--
ReplyDeleteMittens..Happy Birthday! So...8 years old, still quite young. My name is Kirby and I will be 19 on September 15. We look so much alike we could be family if it were not for our ages.
ReplyDeleteWell, I wish you many more Healthy Birthdays. It does appear your caretaker does well by you. I wish all Cats and Dogs could have the lives we have enjoyed and still enjoy. My human Dad sometimes asks me if I remember my Mom or brothers and sisters. I was so young when they took me away from them, so I do not. I am very happy my human Dad came to the Hamilton County SPCA and took me home to live with him, he is my "best friend". My doctor said I was approximately one year old at the time.
I may send you another note because my human Dad lets me use his computers. It is now time for him to get out of his office and come down stairs with me so we can be together. Take care and stay healthy and safe.