You’ve been planning their special day for weeks. You’ve sourced personalised gifts and stocked up on their favourite snacks. The birthday cake (baked according to their very specific dietary requirements) is resplendent with candles. Even the decorations are illustrated with tiny artistic renditions of their face. But then the day arrives, and the only thanks you get is a few cursory barks and a bit of tail-wagging, before they inevitably become more interested in the cardboard packaging that had encased those carefully selected gifts.
Was it worth it? Does your beloved furry friend even really know what’s going on? Who knows, but there’s a very high chance that you’ll do the same thing next year.
Such big pet birthday bonanzas are not fever dreams, but a pretty average occurrence for many proud pet owners. According to a recent survey by the card company Moonpig, around 83 per cent of Gen Z participants and 79 per cent of millennials said that they’d celebrated a pet’s birthday, compared to just 39 per cent of respondents aged over 55. Over half (59 per cent) said they’d gifted their pet a birthday present, with the average spend for birthday parties and adoption day bashes totting up to £121 (or a combined £1.7bn across Britain).
Once, extravagant pet parties were the preserve of the four-legged pals of the rich and famous. In 2023, Lewis Hamilton threw a bash for his bulldog, Roscoe, with a special vegan cake for the birthday boy. Five of Roscoe’s canine mates turned up to mark the occasion, all wearing jaunty party hats except for one guest, a white pomeranian who “broke the trend with a glittery gold fedora”, reported The Sun in a very serious write-up at the time. A few years earlier, actor Sofia Vergara organised a fully unhinged celebration for her son’s chihuahua, Baguette (her grand-dog, if we’re being formal about it). To kick things off, the dog was showered in $100 bills shot from a money gun, before she was guided through some outfit changes and presented with a lavish birthday cake adorned with an entirely harrowing icing sculpture of dear old Baguette.
Over in Hunan province in China, one very dedicated, and very wealthy, dog owner had the police involved after she spent the equivalent of £11,500 on renting 520 drones for a dog-themed light display in honour of her dog’s 10th birthday – thus violating Hunan’s strict no-fly zone. And, in India, one canine bash got shut down for violating Covid rules when the guest list became too sprawling.
Now, though, as Moonpig’s survey (and let’s face it, plenty of anecdotal evidence from your Instagram feeds and WhatsApp chat history) proves, going all out to celebrate our pets is pretty commonplace. In the UK alone, the pet care industry is worth a staggering £10bn, and although we may still be trudging through a cost-of-living crisis, the past few decades have shown us that spending on pets tends not to be impacted all that much by economic downturn. You might go so far as to describe it as recession-proof.
The phenomenon of the pet birthday party, though, is surely part of the strange, social media-induced trickle-down effect, whereby we’ve all started acting like influencers, despite lacking their inflated budgets and generous sponcon opportunities. Every life event – including those happening to our cats, dogs and tortoises – has become an excuse for literal or metaphorical pyrotechnics. And while you can potentially make a case that, say, your bride-to-be friend will appreciate the five-day jaunt to Marbella complete with custom-made T-shirts, can you really argue that Paul the pug or Felix the Persian cat will know what’s going on?
I’m sure they’d enjoy the spread of posh food, but as for the new toys? My experience with pets suggests that they have a habit of latching onto the most underwhelming object they’re presented with, and acting like it is some kind of Holy Grail. And it’s not like they have much of a concept of time’s steady passage, either; their internal clocks tend to be predicated around meal times, bless them.
Perhaps I’m too cynical, and I should instead be marvelling at the bond between pet and owner, or the human capacity to love these cute furry interlopers. In that same survey, 45 per cent of respondents said they see their pets as part of their family, which is undeniably very sweet. But spending so much money to prove that love to, well, yourself feels a bit futile.
Wouldn’t it be better to take them on a long walk? Or give them a few extra hugs and belly rubs? I’m just not convinced that dogs have the cognitive capacity to understand, let alone appreciate, their home suddenly strewn with bunting made up of tiny pictures of them. Or, indeed, the arrival of a massive canvas featuring a portrait of them, dressed up as a tiny admiral complete with hat and medals (yes, this is a popular genre of gift). Given that plenty of pets become a bit baffled whenever they pass a mirror, this sounds like a recipe for a canine existential crisis.
The same goes for the head-spinning array of luxury pet hotels (purely for animals, rather than venues that are open to you bringing your dog along for the trip) and even pet relaxation packages that have sprung up in recent years. Does your puppy need a fancier grooming routine than you do? Don’t most cats hate having a bath? And don’t get me started on the concept of a “guinea pig spa”. Those little rodents could reach a fully zen state by crunching on a particularly luscious piece of cucumber; they don’t really need the full R&R treatment.
Pet celebrations, it seems, are more about the owner than the animal itself. They’re a way we can remind ourselves and others how much we value our animal pals. There’s part of me that wonders, too, whether this is all just a displacement tactic, akin to the “little treat” culture that celebrates affordable-ish luxuries like posh pastries and expensive smoothies.
Buying a home seems out of reach for many young people. So, too, does having the financial firepower to bring up children. Paying for a wedding often requires years of steady saving. Against this backdrop, perhaps it’s no wonder that we’re splashing our disposable income on pet parties (you’ve got to take joy where you can, after all). All I ask is that you don’t ask for my opinion on the custom pet portrait you had commissioned to mark the occasion, complete with Fluffy in miniature military regalia. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a straight face.
