Grok’s “Surprise” Birthday Party
The kitchen in Amanda’s sister’s house was filled with a bustling, chaotic energy. Albert elbowed Dot from his wheelchair as she sang while arranging an oversized, colorfully decorated cake on the counter, muttering under his breath, “Keep your voice down! You’re going to spoil the surprise!”
Ben pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose and then went back to wrangling a crooked “Happy Birthday” banner that seemed determined to sag. Frank was crouched by the pantry, pulling out a few extra treats to scatter around, and Amanda herself was shushing everyone while keeping an ear out for Grok’s approach.
“Quiet, he’ll hear us!” Amanda whispered, waving her hands to calm the clamor. Grok had excellent hearing, and surprising him wouldn’t be easy.
From the hallway came the sound of a soft growl. As soon as Amanda caught sight of a shadow moving under the kitchen doorway, she nodded eagerly to the others. “Now!” she hissed.
The whole group took a deep breath and, as the door swung open, yelled, “Surprise!”
Grok froze mid-step, his yellow eyes widening in shock. Instinctively, he arched his back, fur bristling, and let out a loud hiss, eyes darting to each of them as if evaluating the threat. His long-haired grey tail swished in agitation, but then he noticed the large cake on the counter, fish-shaped decorations made of icing, and an entire smoked salmon artfully placed on top. The initial alarm melted into reluctant curiosity.
“What is all this?” Grok grumbled, flicking his tail, still looking slightly annoyed. But the fish cake aroma drew him closer, his nose twitching with interest.
“Even though you don’t know when you were born, we decided you needed a proper birthday party, Grok!” Amanda explained, trying to keep a straight face.
“What’s a birthday?”
Dot beamed at the cat, her grey curls bobbing. “It’s a celebration of...well, you. You know, Grok,” she says with a mischievous grin, “they say birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live!” She slapped her leg as she laughed, and Albert shook his head and joined her.
Grok narrowed his eyes at the older woman and was about to give a snappy response when Frank, grinning, snuck up and snapped a little birthday hat onto Grok’s head.
Grok froze, then spun in a circle, trying to flick the hat off.
“Now, hold still!” Dot exclaimed, clapping her hands.
Grok gave a low howl of warning but stilled and begrudgingly let the hat stay, though his ears flattened against his head.
Dot struck a match and lit the little candles on the cake, leaning back proudly as they began to glow. “Time to blow out the candles and make a wish!”
Grok tilted his head, unimpressed. “You just lit them, and now you want me to put them out?” He gave Amanda a quizzical look.
“It’s tradition!” Amanda laughed, gesturing for him to give it a try. “Go on, blow them out.”
With a resigned huff, Grok squared himself up and took a deep breath. Then, with all the force his large Maine Coon lungs could muster, he exhaled sharply, sending the candles flying as their flames flickered. Unfortunately, he sent one candle toppling onto the kitchen curtains.
A tiny spark flared up, and, in a heartbeat, the curtain’s edge caught.
“Fire!” Ben yelped, lunging for a glass of water and tossing it at the flame, only to douse Dot in the process. Dot shrieked, waving her arms as Albert grabbed a dish towel, trying to beat out the flames now licking up the curtains.
Meanwhile, Frank, in the chaos, grabbed the pot off the stove and flung its contents wildly toward the window, catching both the flames and Albert in a wave of spaghetti and meatballs.
They finally put out the hissing flames, leaving the kitchen in damp disarray. Amanda, drenched and frazzled, leaned against the counter, laughing in disbelief as she surveyed the soaked and smoke-scented kitchen. “Well, I’d say the birthday was a success,” she said with a wry grin.
Grok, utterly unfazed by the chaos around him, had already dug his face into the cake, munching away happily. He looked up at the group, his face smeared with icing, crumbs sticking to his whiskers and a look of sheer contentment in his eyes.
Dot, hair slightly singed and glasses fogged up, let out a reluctant laugh, patting Grok’s head. “Happy Birthday, you rascal. Next year, we’ll do this outside.”
Grok gave her an approving purr, his yellow eyes glinting as he licked his whiskers with satisfaction. He might not understand the fuss, but with cake crumbs on his face and his belly full, he had to admit—this “birthday” business wasn’t so bad.