For every birthday in the family, my mother gets out her watercolours and makes a homemade card. It’s a tradition. Anyone of us would be insulted to get a store-bought card.
Here is the inside of this year’s birthday card to Boy in Black, my tall son who has devoted most of his energy this year to Ultimate Frisbee. The card shows five of the cats in our household — Salem, Trouble, Rachel, Rogue, and Emmy — talking to each other. Here’s the dialogue.
“Hey, Trouble. I hear it’s the tall one’s birthday. He is pretty old.”
“No, Salem, humans live longer than we do. I hear he is very smart. Right, Rachel?”
“Then why is he always chasing that round thing that he can’t eat when he catches it?”
“I think it’s a game like when we chase a catnip mouse. What do you think, Emmy?”
“I don’t have a clue, but I think I peed on it.”
