In my house, we take birthdays very seriously. We have an annual contest to see who wins the “gold medal” for being the first to wish the birthday boy (or girl) a many happy returns. It’s competitive. Cutthroat, even. I’ve been known to write blogs and sing songs just to try and trump the person who inevitably beat me in the well-wishing.
I hate to lose.
So when one of our cats’ birthdays rolls around, they get the special treatment, too.
There is at least a week’s worth of planning that goes into each feline’s special day. Gift buying, meal planning. Then there’s the media assault plan that has to go into place. It’s like planning strategy for a war. Who’s gonna take stills, and who’s gonna take video? Placement of birthday tuna fish dinner in the right lighting, with no other kitty interruptions. To candle, or not to candle?
Yesterday, our fuzzy-and-adorable-and-orange-and-floofy Scooter turned three.
|The candle may not have been the best idea we ever had, but the one-shot memory was worth a few singed whiskers and a freaked out birthday boy….right?|
Scoot came into our lives after the devastating loss of our kitten, Eddie. It’s true what they say—that a new love can heal the loss of an old love. Scooter immediately captured our hearts, and was eventually the inspiration behind another blog I used to write, The FatKat Kronicles. And what they say about orange tabby cats is really true—they have SO MUCH PERSONALITY. Scooter constantly has us laughing and reaching for our cameras.
So much so, that’s he’s really got the whole “Stop-and-pose-cuz-Mom’s-got-the-flashy-box-again” thing down pat.
|“Cuz I’m the MOST adorable mancat, ever.”|
We also have the annual “Get-Squished-By-Mommy-In-A-Commemorative-Birthday-Portrait” pictures:
|Scooter, Age 3, looking mighty perturbed.|
And the “Just-Keep-Eating-Even-Though-Mom-Has-The-Camera-Shoved-In-My-Face-Because-She-Likes-The-Slurpy-Noise-I-Make” birthday video:
You know, just your Basic Birthday Barrage.
Ooh…that would be the perfect name for a party planning company….maybe I should go into business.
Also, if I ever get around to having children, someone should warn them. ASAP. Because if I’m this fanatical about my pets’ birthdays, my children are going to be traumatized by my OCD, everything needs to be perfect, “DID YOU GET THAT SHOT????,” celebration compulsions.
Is there a 12-step program for that?