I swear to god, he loves this cat more than me. I mean, look at this! First thing in the morning, I’m there, spooned up next to him, leeching his body warmth and cuddling the hell outta him. All the cat is doing is sitting on him, on top of the blankets – not even under like I am! and yet every morning who does he greet first? The cat. Who gets attention first? The cat. Sure she’s fluffy and adorable, especially when he’s purring, but he once told me I was adorable too right? And I get to be under the covers! Shouldn’t I get a morning kiss before the cat does? Not fair.

The cat knows it’s war. She KNOWS that we are fighting over the attention of the same boy. Sure, I don’t have little toebeans and a bottlebrush tail, but I have a tool in my bag that she can’t use though. I return all my boy’s kisses, then start touching him and humping him…aaand suddenly he becomes interested very quickly in what I can do to make him feel good and how I can tend to his morning needs. You should see the deathglare the cat gives me when my boy sets her on the floor so he can have sex. I know, it’s childish and pedantic to feel like you’ve won over the cat but, I often feel that I’m very close to losing my hierarchy in this household. At least I’m still the top in this relationship.

“What is it honey? You want to get another cat? Noooooo!”

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Text is fictional.