A Kitten Grows in Wisconsin

(Ed. Note: Spell Check isn't working on Blogger today. Yes, I was an English major, but I'm also human, and not a good one at that. Give me a break.)

My boys are back in school this gloomy Monday morning. Maybe it's gloomy for them, but for me, it's shining brightly in the corners of my mind.

On our last day of break, running out of things to keep my kids occupied, we had a birthday party for Clark.

Clark is our cat.

(Note: Okay, truth be told, I didn't actually put too much effort into finding things for them to do. I got out a puzzle for Hoover on day 4 and helped him put it together. I'm frickin' Mom of the Year for this because I hate doing puzzles.)

We bought Clark a cake at Walmart (because there's no way I'm dirtying a kitchen baking a cake for a cat), threw a candle in it, and that was supposed to be it.

But the kids wanted to buy him presents. So we got him a 5-pack of catnip-scented mice. Because we're thoughtful like that.

Clark requested a lame vanilla cake from Walmart. We were just honoring his wishes.

We sang to him the "Zoo" version of Happy Birthday because Hoover told us that was proper protocol for celebrating an animal's birthday.

Reflecting on all he has learned this first year of life, I'm sure.

After we sang, I cut up the cake. Clark got the first piece, of course.

Will the humiliation ever end?

He did take a taste, but that was about it. The kids were disappointed he didn't finish his cake. One of the kids offered to finish it for him, but since Clark tends to taste things with the same apparatus he cleans his poop chute with, I put the kabash on that one.

The kids were anxious to give Clark his presents, which he accepted heartily.

And part of me feels a sense of obligation to our other cat, Mo, because his birthday is April 11th. We probably should have a party for him, too. (Yes, I know the cats don't know what a birthday is, let alone when their's happen to be.)

(And yes, I'm embarrassed I actually know when both of my cats' birthdays are. Let's just gloss over this fact.)

As much as I tell myself this was all for the kids, an annoying little bird - in the form of junk mail - keeps chirping in my ear.

Am I really on my way to a Cat Fancy subscription?

This came in the mail a few days ago.  I think Cat Fancy is doing some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy with me. Never before had I celebrated a cat's birthday, until three days after I get this in the mail. Touche, Cat Fancy. Well played.