Today, we're celebrating Foof's ninth birthday. Since learning of the date a few years ago, I've created announcements proclaiming the glorious occasion - this year's inspiration is that other Queen's Jubilee. After greeting in a distinctive manner some neighboring cats who came to pay their respects, HRH tucked into her favorite repast, a chicken and duck pate with a refreshing salad of oat grass. She accepted, with typical grace, my apologies for being unable to stage a stately, floating procession of gayly bedecked craft in her honor and instead, enjoyed a few moments in the bathtub. On the advent of the next year of her triumphant reign, she is as majestic, clever and beautiful as one could hope for. For a celebratory treat, she asked to hear the recitation of a favorite passage from Chaucer. She is now resting, having exhausted herself over a tin of catnip sardines.
Vivat Regina, dearest Foo Foo, long may you live!
from The Manciple's Tale