It’s very nearly my birthday.   

My she-servant thinks so, anyway. The truth is, the she-servant doesn’t know when I was born because she couldn’t be bothered to learn the date. She chooses to observe my birthday on October 31 because of my “devilish nature.” Servant comments hold no value to me, so I couldn’t care less what brought her to that conclusion. She is wrong and I will bite her for it.

I disapprove of celebrating birthdays on the wrong day. It is like a lie, and I am always honest. This year I am going to make a stand against inappropriate birthday observance. If she gives me a cat toy on October 31, I will bury it in my litter. If she tries to feed me a treat, I will try to eat her whole hand. And if she forgets my birthday altogether, I will destroy her. I’m just being honest. The male servant could easily take over her duties, and probably do a better job at it.

Anyway, I’m certain I was born on a day more glorious than Halloween, like Independence Day, or Cats Eat Free Day. By the way, every day is Cats Eat Free Day. I haven’t paid a penny for my food since the day I was born. Which is… Independence Day?