Mr. Whiskers

I had to make a decision.

Stay or leave her. Do it or don't.

I decided to stay. I couldn't leave the cat with her. She didn't take very good care of him. I had to clean the litter box, feed him, pet him. I couldn't break up our little family. 

She didn't even care about Mr. Whiskers. Her ex-boyfriend had rescued him and given him to her, but she was indifferent to him.

She only cared about her music.

She was a singer-songwriter. She wrote songs about love, dedication, faithfulness, but she didn't like to live it.

When she forgot my birthday and stayed out all night drinking, and woke up me since she was working on a song, I took her guitar and threw it out the window. It smashed against the sidewalk.

Pay attention to me, your cat, to us, I said.

She kept playing air guitar. Everything was a joke to her. She sang:

My boyfriend threw my guitar out the window
he's really mad at me,
he's so cute when he's mad,
but when I tell him this he gets even angrier
Do-do-do-do-do-oh-yeah-oh-yeah.

I took the cat and left. Write a song about this, you monster, I shouted.

 

The cat and I are very happy together. We've almost forgotten all about her. She comes to our window at night. She tries to woo us back, serenade us.

Hey Mr. Whiskers, I know I messed up
I know I really messed up
this is me fessing up
but I really miss you and Toby, that
cute guy who you live with

But we know better, don't we Mr. Whiskers? We're not going to be seduced by a little song, are we? No, we're not. The lyrics aren't even very good. I don't think so, Mr. Whiskers. No way. Let's just shut this window and go to sleep. We have a new life now.