Indeed, Aria is now 6 years old, which is about 35 in cat years. I adopted her five years ago, when she was about one year old. She had already had a litter of kittens, which I never got to see and really wish I had. When I first got her, she was terrified and skittish. Her bed was under the couch, the only place that she seemed to stay.

I'd almost never recognize her now.

She lets people pet her--not only me, but also visitors and their 11-year-old sons. Sometimes she'll hide when my parents come to visit (like they did last night) because she associates their presence with a long drive in her kitty carrier. But she will come out and be her usual diva self.

Aria has also acquired a slew of nicknames, which may help explain why she rarely comes when she's called (the other explanation being, of course, that she's a cat). The current batch include: Aria, Fuzzybutt, Scooby, Sweet Pea, Babes, Shmoops, Stop Scratching the Couch, Dammit!, Sngglebunny, Fluffy, Fuzz, and so on. She is enormously expressive and can make the most pathetic sounding whine that always results in my giving her tuna.

She sheds, she farts, she whines- but she also snuggles and loves and licks. Aria is phenominally curious and brilliant, yet shows breathtaking stupidity at times.

Most of all, she is mine.

Happy birthday, Aria!