Today my human family’s cat – a.k.a. my arch nemesis – celebrated his thirteenth birthday. The teenager part is new, but even the bipeds won’t dispute that he’s been moody his whole life!
Now that he’s a teen, he might start using slang terms to accompany his nonchalant cattitude. (I recently learned from Buzzfeed that phrases like “swag money” and “turnt” are uber-pawpular.) But if things go as I suspect, he’ll stick to his one-meow vocabulary. After all, he’s never shared my verbosity!
Fate of all fates, the human who translates my rat squeaks into English for this blog insisted that I play mice – er, nice – with the critter. But as you can see from the photo above, as soon as her back was turned, he took a swipe at me! I think he was confusing me with his birthday present, making plans to turn me into a rat party hat.
I drew the line, though, when it came time to celebrate. For while it’s easy to guess what my favorite birthday treat is (cheesecake, of course), it’s likewise not difficult to surmise his. Still stumped? Check out this blog’s title.
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob
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