Happy birthday my love, my queen, my White Lady, otherwise known as Creampuff, Your Royal Highness and Goofy McDerpface (but I think she thinks her given name is really “AvaNO!” when she gets up to mischief whut she shoudn’t be getting into. My darling Maine Coon is five years old today, which, as I am given to understand from CoonLore, marks her adulthood. Maine Coons are officially supposed to stop growing at age 5, to which I can only say, just in time, madame. You’re getting hefty, even for a “dainty” Maine Coon (and I don’t mean fat hefty. she isn’t FAT. she is just sixteen pounds of pure muscle). We have struggled together through drama (why oh why did you break my lamp?), laughter (you can chase that cat dancer stick toy and play wigglebutt hunt with it for an hour if I would let you), moments of heartstopping aristocratic beauty and moments of utter derpy kittenhood which, all other rules to the contrary, I hope you never ever grow out of.
Live, love, and play, light-o’-my-life. Happy birthday.
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