Was it that long ago that I was a tiny little kitten, born in a barn in rural Virginia? Mom and Dad say it's been 15 years. But just like people say about their own birthdays, time just flies, doesn't it?
Fifteen years. They say that's old for a cat. I don't feel old. Well, OK, a little. I can't jump quite the same as when I was younger, and I can't run as fast. But I can still nudge my crazy sisters away from the food dish any time I like, and tonight that birthday cake is going to be mine, all mine!
Dad says he's a little worried about my health. Yes, I did get sick a few months ago, so sick I lost my appetite for a while (no, really, that actually happened). But Mom and Dad gave me some pills and, while I didn't really like that part, that did make me feel better. So what if I'm lighter than I used to be? Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? And if not me, who's gonna keep Dad's lap warm while he plays poker on his computer?
Give me my daily treats (and Kaline's, and Carla's), some kibbles, some critters to watch on the big cat-TV, and a warm spot to sleep, and I'm sure I'll have a few miles left on the ol' pawdometer.
Happy Birthday to Me!
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