If you’ve ever tried to celebrate a cat’s birthday, you understand the dilemma. They expect gourmet meals every day, so that’s not special. They don’t like cake. Gifts may or may not be well-received, although if you put them in a box you have a greater chance of appreciation. Inviting guests pisses them off.
After fourteen years with these two, Leonard and Sophie, I have found a catnip party to be the biggest hit. I accept the guilt of being a bad cat mom–rewarding their longevity with getting stoned. I try to remember that they are, in fact, adults. Following that trail of thought only reminds me that they are free-loaders and I am the enabler who keeps them this way.
Every year on their birthday, I remind them of mine. Only once has either remembered. Sophie brought a ponytail elastic to my bed on the correct day, but before you’re impressed, I’m almost positive the item was already mine.
For whatever reason, I still love these unemployed, unappreciative, judgmental animals. I’ve had fourteen years to ponder why and I’ve decided that they have two traits I admire.
One, cats only do what they want to do.
Two, cats don’t care what anyone thinks. Ever.
I applaud the felines for those two accomplishments.
This description is so accurate that you don’t even have to have cats to understand!
Dogs are a little easier to please, maybe.