When R man and I picked the Evil and Adorable Saki out of the lineup at cat jail (aka Animal Care and Control, aka the pound,) the technician there estimated his age to be about three years. That seemed really unlikely to me, his face still looked almost like a kitten and his complete lack of restraint seemed very adolescent.
Our vet backed me up and thought he was about nine months. Since that was April of 2008, we decided his birthday was July 7, 2007: 7/7/7. What could be more lucky than a kitty who had moved from the streets to jail into running the lives of two middle age poofs?
So happy birthday to Saki, destroyer of white leather chairs, hogger of the best place in the bed, and absolute terror of anyone foolish enough to try and pet him.
I claim my cooing at him in my old lady voice "Who's the babiest baby in babytown?" is an attempt to civilize him. In fact, I just do it to fuck with him and his air of general annoyance when I do so is payback for all the scratches, bites and scars I carry from him, the adorable little shit.