My mom's Maine Coon kitten turns one today. We had a little birthday celebration for her yesterday, which basically involved my mom bringing out the two cat toys we'd gotten for her at the cat show. Oh, and Mom tried out this recipe for Hungarian goulash, though I suspect that was more for our benefit than Minerva's. Mom did serve chocolate cake for dessert, which Minerva kept trying to sit on. Ah, Minerva. Despite reaching this milestone, she's still very much a kitten.
Minerva insisted that I play two games with her using her stick and feather-on-a-string toy. This basically involved her leaping in the air and banging into doors and furniture. Then, if she caught the mock feathered animal, she would start pulling me along and I'd do my best Barbara Woodhouse impression, saying, "Walkies!" She also helped me do my laundry, riding up on my shoulders after my first trip to the basement. When I brought up my laundry from the dryer, she got on my back so I had to make my way up the stairs bent over like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.
As I watched Minerva tear around the living room with her big fluffy tail high in the air, I almost had a flashback to a time long ago when Marmie was a baby and I wasn't much more than a kitten myself...
But, thankfully, I didn't.
Well, despite all the partying I did yesterday, I actually did something semi-productive today. I packed a lunch and hopped on a bus to Edwards Gardens, where I actually got a surprising amount of writing done. I'm hoping the trend continues tomorrow.