Back when Rachel was well aware that we had a cat and I was still in denial of a lot of things, we took Bast to a vet for the first time. One of the first questions on the intake form asked for a birthday but, having found him in a dumpster, he didn’t exactly come with a birth certificate. We “assigned” that date as his birthday and after the vet estimated his age, counted back the appropriate number of years.
That arbitrary day occurred this week, which makes Bast seven years old. I’m still bewildered as to exactly how that much time has passed, although following my dubious career decisions might give one an inkling. I decided to approximate a birthday cake by decorating an open can of tuna (Bast’s all-time favorite treat) with a candle, and set up a camera to record the little event.
I expected Bast to maintain a safe distance until I could help him blow out the candle. Instead, he took matters into his own hands paws, striking quickly to protect us both from the Flaming Menace. It was all captured on video, which I quickly cut together to share.
Bast was quite unharmed, and after his feast could be found sleeping off a food coma in several of his favorite places.
