Tag Archives: cats

You Gotta Fight…For Your Right…To Paaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-tayyy

30 Apr

Carter just took a hit off his catnip cigar

Last night I went to a cat’s birthday party.  This wasn’t the first cat party I’ve been to.  It was my fourth.  Two of my friends throw birthday parties for their cats.  It’s kind of funny and kind of serious, kind of a joke but kind of for real.  It’s partly an excuse to get together with friends and partly, it’s somebody’s birthday that needs to be celebrated.

Last night was Carter’s 9th Birthday Party.  I’ve been to Carter’s 7th & 8th birthday parties, and also to Oliver’s 3rd. 

Two years ago for Carter’s 7th birthday, his Mom (also known as my friend K), invited a couple of us humans over for take-out and Scrabble, because “Carter would’ve wanted it that way.”  I think I had a couple of sips of beer and I know I won at Scrabble, and Carter spent the night sprawled and spaced out on the easy chair, drunk on catnip and looking bored.

This year, Carter’s birthday party was highly anticipated.  He wanted to play Scrabble yet again (he never seems to get tired of it), and wine and cheese was on the program.  Some emails went back and forth between the hostess K, and the attendees, me and L (who is Oliver’s Mom) about what we were to bring.  L joked that she was going to bring a birthday hat to put on Carter’s head, and K responded to “bring it at your own risk.”  Carter has a good heart, but due to some early childhood trauma that took place before my friend K adopted him, he is emotionally unavailable.  Known in some circles (at his vet’s office) as “The Baddest Cat in Brooklyn,” Carter needs his own space and has some boundary issues, so getting too close to him is often a mistake.  Especially if you are holding a paper party hat aimed in his direction.

The past weekend, excitement was running high.  My friends L, K and I went out to a bar with some other (human) people for L’s (human) birthday, and there was much talk about Carter’s festivities.  K’s boyfriend wasn’t invited to Carter’s party for obvious reasons.  He wasn’t upset.  He is a Manly Man, and expressed his “disappointment” like this:  “If I told my friends I was going to a Cat Party, I would get punched in the face.”

This reminded me of when my boss asked me what I was doing for the weekend on a Friday afternoon in January.  Oliver’s birthday party was that night, so I told him I was going to a cat’s birthday party and he said:  “You must never speak of this again.”

The day of Carter’s party finally arrived.  I was unofficially bringing dessert because I unofficially bring dessert to almost every function I attend.  I may not be a Cat Person, but I am definitely a Dessert Person, and after work I went to Whole Foods to pick up some mini-vanilla cupcakes (because Carter would have wanted it that way). 

When I arrived at K’s there was a gorgeous spread of baguette and three different kinds of cheeses (cow, goat, and sheep), olives, little pickles, artichokes, tomatoes, and marinated white beans, and a bottle of wine.  Carter seemed quite pleased.  K told us how she had gone to a fancy gourmet market and the cute guy behind the counter was like:  “Is it a special occasion?” and she was all:  “Yeah, my friends are coming over we’re having wine and cheese and playing Scrabble and hanging out and, you know…it’smycat’sbirthday.” 

Oliver enjoying a birthday cupcakeOliver was also in attendance and he and Carter alternately ignored each other, played nice, and beat the shit out of each other.  L brought a gift for Carter (usually I bring gifts; I got Oliver two different kinds of Pounce® Treats in January, but I had an appointment after work and didn’t have time for a trip to the pet store, so I made due with just the cupcakes, and hoped that Carter would understand.  He did.), and he tore into the tissue paper and had a ball with the ribbon.  Jackpot.  A catnip cigar and a side of extra catnip.  Now Carter was ready to party.

It turned out that Carter was too tired to play Scrabble and wanted to talk about boys and watch American Idol, so that’s what we did.  Carter got wasted as usual and the cigar went right to his head. 

It was Neil Diamond Night on Idol and Carter was pretty bored, so it was an early night and we all turned in around 10:30.  I was glad the party wasn’t a rager, because I “spoke of it again” and told my boss that I had another Cat Party to go to, and it wouldn’t have looked good to come in late to work all hungover and shit today. 

'Dude, 9 is gonna be the best year ever.' -Carter B.I was about to drift off into sleep last night, full on cheese and baguette and micro-pickles and mini-cupcakes, when the phone rang.  It was K, calling to tell me that she was just washing the dishes when she heard a thud.  Carter had fallen off the easy chair.  I think he may have a problem.

 

 Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Garam

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