Happy birthday(s)!

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Happy Birthday Misty

Misty is one today.

Or at least as close to one as we can make her, she was abandoned so we’re not exactly sure about when she was born, but it’s around about now.

We’re throwing her a little party. Just the usual - fish, cat treats, cream, maybe a few prawns – and a cake with a candle on it. And of course we have bought her presents – a new collar, and a new ball with a bell inside it.

I wonder if she knows that it’s her birthday?...

“About hissing time! Here I am fifteen today and all of a sudden they start wishing me happy birthday… what about the other hissing fourteen? Rotting fish scales - my first came and went without even a pilchard, then my second, then my third. On my fifth I thought ‘this is it! They are bound to throw me a party for my fifth.’ But no – nothing – absol-hissing-lutely zilchermero! When my tenth came I stupidly gave myself an extra special clean and made sure my collar was straight, certain that this must be it. But still nothing, zero, nada, piddley squat! To tell you the truth I gave up after that – and here they all are, Hisfault, Foodies, and that Whirling Dervish girl thing, all looking down at me and singing some silly song. They’ve even invited the one with the stick, Foodies mum, the one that keeps trying to stand on me… what does Hisfault call her? Batty something or other…Batty Joan, that’s it… Listen to her, I don’t think she can remember the words to the song.

Happy birthday to me indeed! What about the other fourteen? Don’t they know that for the first two of their years I have a birthday every twenty-four and a half days? In another one of their year’s time I’ll be thirty. Thirty! Almost middle aged, past it - the best of my leaping and mouse-catching days over - and here they are giving me a single measly birthday party every whenever-they-can-be-bothered!

NOT GOOD ENOUGH!

Bad Keepers…

Once I’m thirty it slows down a little, thank Mu-Mu, only four birthdays in every one of their years. One every three months by my calculation. Do you hear that Batty? ONE EVERY THREE MONTHS… she’s deaf as a scratching post.

Maybe Keepers can’t do sums… they’ve never seemed very bright to me.

Why are they setting fire to that stick on that round pink thing? I’ll never work this lot out. They’re as mad as goldfish in a square bowl.

Oh well, better make the best of it. Okay, buckle up the new collar, bring on the cat treats, sing away… sing away… ”

Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Misty, Happy birthday to yooooou....