The Other Woman

My cat, prince, has been cheating on me for the past two years. He has lived months at a time at the neighbor's house. We've had kittens, puppies, another male cat, all of which Prince did not like. Instead of working out his problems through talking, he took off. Occasionally we would catch him and bring him home where he would hiss at us for a few days, and then he would be off to the other woman's house. When he would return, he was thinner, smelled heavenly, and had remarkably shiny fur.

Well, on Sunday, I finally met the other woman at a block party. And she is delightful! I kind of thought she would be, but my suspicions were confirmed.

Prince has been home for several months now. We made the choice to take the other cats at our house to live on a Nebraska farm in a barn, and keep Prince happy. It's been working. He meows at our door, and no longer hisses, and sleeps on various beds at night. He hasn't smelled like the other woman for months.

"Did you know Mikey still comes to our house?" This is the other woman, telling me this. She calls him Mikey. Not Micky mouse....Mike---eee. Like an Irish boxer.

"He does?" I really had no idea.

"Yes. He comes for a treat, and I brush him with his black brush, and he uses the litter box." This woman is really good with cats.

So, he is still cheating on me, but he didn't want to hurt my feelings. The smell is glade plugins, in case you were wondering, which I was. She has two other cats, and they don't have claws. Prince was a force of masculinity and power in her household.

They neighbors on my street were captivated by my kitty drama, and I am happy to report, it ended with a lot of laughter and a mutual love for a mustached cat that just likes to keep his options open.


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