Little Baby’s All Growns Up
It seems like there’s a birthday frenzy going on lately. I mean, first there was mine a few weeks ago, and then there were probably some other people who had some birthdays, and now, my little twin babies are turning six. Six years old? It’s hard to believe.
The timing seemed right to celebrate their birthday this year with a special tradition in the Amadeo household: the renaming ceremony. No longer would Maddox and Zahara be named after a homewrecking UN Ambassador’s adopted children. I decided they needed names that were befitting of their class, style, and sex appeal, so after much deliberation and consultation, I decided on:
Mr. Lionel Richie and Miss Dionne Warwick!
Six is a big year for cats, because according to the bag of Science Diet I just read, at seven, they switch over to senior food. This is their last real hurrah as youngsters, their final truly carefree year before all the responsibility and stress of being a cat sets in. So I wanted to let them get wild on their birthday, but I had no idea what I was in for.
I went to the pet store and, in addition to 20 pounds of new harder clumping style cat litter (which they did not, by the way, seem to appreciate in the least), I picked them up a fresh container of catnip. I know, I know. I probably shouldn’t have, especially after Mr. Lionel Richie’s last brush with addiction. But you only turn six once, so I cracked open an Amstel Light for myself, popped off the lid of the catnip, and stepped back.
Within seconds they had devoured an entire stalk of catnip, and then started rolling around the floor, purring wildly, and rubbing against everything in the house. It was like the 70’s all over again. I could sense that they were feeling peckish, so I brought out their final birthday treat – a baby chick!
I barely had time to lay down a backdrop, adjust a few clamp lights, and brush back their whiskers when they started to attack the poor Peep. Usually they just lick them a few times, bat them around a bit, and walk away bored. But this time they went nuts – it was like a feeding frenzy!
The first thing Mr. Lionel Richie did was decapitate the helpless Peep! Yellow dust splattered everywhere.
Then Miss Dionne Warwick got into the mix, and pulled the headless chick away from Mr. Lionel Richie. They tore at the bird like a pair of blood-soaked hyenas. Mr. Lionel Richie continued to chew up the head of his prey, while Miss Dionne Warwick dug out the Peep innards with her fangs – marshmallow fluff was stuck to her face and whiskers. I had to look away.
When they had finally had their fill, they lorded over the carcass with such satisfaction, it turned my stomach.
My god, what have I done?
Filed under: General on April 4th, 2006 | 19 Comments »
