It's Still Life

The Birthday Surprise
(Or: A Cat’s Guide to Celebrating Humans)

The Old Woman wakes to find the kitchen transformed.
Streamers (chewed, slightly).
Balloons (deflated, mostly).
And the cat, perched on the table,
wearing a paper crown he clearly made himself
(it says “KING KNUT” with a drawing
of a sardine where the jewel should be).

“Happy birthday,” he announces.
“I have planned everything.
You may thank me later.
With treats.”

She blinks.
“You did all this?”

“I supervised.
The crow fetched.
The robin decorated.
The penguin provided atmosphere.
Now — presents.”

He nudges a pile toward her with his nose.

GIFT ONE: Catnip.
“For relaxation,” he explains.
“You are tense, Old Woman.
Probably from not being a cat.
This will help.”

GIFT TWO: A new food bowl.
“It matches mine.
Now we can eat together.
Civilised.
Communal.
It’s mostly yours.”

GIFT THREE: A fluffy cushion.
“Flame-proof,” he adds,
“in case you get too close to the fireplace
and fall asleep.
I noticed you do that.
Worrying.
Get older…”

She ignores the last part.

THE GRAND FINALE: A fishcake.
The cat presents it with ceremony,
whiskers twitching with pride.
It is studded with candles,
so many candles
the fishcake is barely visible.

“Make a wish,” he instructs.

She leans in.
Breathes.

The candles erupt.
The fishcake catches fire.
Properly.
Flames licking the icing,
the cat watching with fascination.

“Magnificent,” he breathes.
“I knew it would do that.
The candle-to-fish ratio was perfect.
Science.”

The Old Woman blows frantically.
The crow drops a damp tea towel on it.
The fire dies.

She stares at the charred remains.
The cat stares at her.

“Well?” he says.
“Did you make a wish?”

The Old Woman laughs —
the kind of laugh that cracks something open
and lets the light in.

“Best birthday ever,” she says.

The cat nods, satisfied.

“Good.”