HOLIDAY ROMANCE

Mewsers, I hope you never have to endure the painful heartache, and sheer devastation that I am going through at the moment. My toys have lost their appeal and I have gone right off my cat crunchies. All life has lost its meaning. Tears are rolling off the end of my whiskers and splashing onto the carpet, my coat has lost its lustre and even my catnip rat has been lobbed under the bed out of sight.

A piece of paper rolled out of Mummikins jacket pocket and onto the floor. I must have nudged it while I was rolling round on the bed, drooling over my catnip rat. I wasn’t bothered at first but then, when it caught my eye. My blood ran cold, my heart just splintered into a thousand crystal pieces. There, in glorious Technicolor was my Mummikins ... with another tom cat!

Now I know that when she goes away to write Willi Whizkas tales she has holiday romances; furry-flings. She’s always been discreet and never comes home smelling of other tom cats which I think is very considerate and I appreciate this thoughtfulness. What I don’t know about doesn’t bother me. As long as she comes home to me and loves me 100%

I am aware that when she is away she is unfaithful, usually with some local opportunist tom cat that will go round to her hotel or apartment and seduce her or even a tom cat she picks up off the streets when he follows her. I know that she feels lonely and lost without me and the temptation to pick him up and cuddle him because she misses me is hard for her. I understand that, but as long as she doesn’t bring him home to live with us then I have always been prepared to turn a blind eye to these indiscretions.

I also know that she will be adopted by a local female cat who will turn up looking half starved dirty and mangy so Mummikins will head off for the nearest supermarket and buy vastly overpriced local cat food and cat crunchies and even packet of luxury ham with her holiday pocket money for this poor cat who will promptly turn up again the next day with its 30 manky, filthy, flea encrusted kittens and three intact, battered menacing looking toms all expecting to be catered for during the entire duration of her stay. They expect to be fed at least several times a day and will then entertain Mummikins by sitting on a wall yowling or noisily fighting until the early hours of the morning, or even worse drop fleas in her bed.

Mewsers, as you know, I’m a tolerant cat. I know that in humans terms it’s nice to have a five star banquet waiting for you at home (me!) but it’s good to go out for fish and chips now and again (him!), or whatever it is the humans use as a pathetic excuse when they’re been rumbled when having affairs

But when I saw this picture I knew I had lost my Mummikins heart …

Look at him HE’S GORGEOUS!!

I can see why she fell for him. Big sexy boy. Look at those seductive eyes, they’re ‘come to bed and make kittens’ eyes if ever I saw them! Even better than Robbie Williams eyes! How could she fail not to be seduced by him?

His pelt is groomed to perfection, whiskers polished, professionally I imagine. I even expect that his claws are buffed and shine with a little sexy glint at their tips. His tail must be fluffed to powder-puff standard, snaky specimens like this usually are. They spend all day just grooming themselves, waiting to seduce some poor unsuspecting female human whose guard is down whilst on holiday. I bet he’s never had to catch a mouse or work for his supper in his life.

How can I possibly compete with him?  This is no alley cat that she picked up in some slummy joint. This boy has obviously got class and style. I don’t think this is some cheap and nasty holiday fling, it looks like true love. I just hope she didn’t give him our address. There’s no room for the three of us in our bed and I’m not sharing my snooozeee or grit tray with him.

I bet he’s done all the seductive moves. I bet he’s head butted her legs whilst purring and looking adoring up into her eyes. I bet he’s let her stroke and tickle him, I’d put money on him rolling over begging, desperately to have his tummy tickled whilst his big-boy bits and pink crust-free bottom are on display, purring for all he’s worth, or padding his paws on her knee whilst a bit of purr-drool falls enchantingly onto her lap.

Mewsers, I can’t bear to think of him in her arms. I am pained by the thought that she has been kissing him, nibbling his ears telling him she loves him and what a beautiful, handsome boy he is whilst looking deep into those deceiving feline eyes, I bet when she sniffs his fur it doesn't smell of old tuna is but fragranced with vanilla and cinnamon. Because I know, as indeed you know Mewsers,  that as soon as her foot in on the homeward plane, this Lothario, this gigolo, this Romeo, ...   this... this... thing will be off preying on other cats’ mommies whilst their own cats are banged up in places like Cold-Kitz, or Al-Cat-Raz doing time for crimes they don’t know they’ve committed.

I suppose he’s given her the impression that she’s the only human for him and that they’ll be together for the rest of their days, as she feeds him expensive titbits and cuddles him. I bet she falls for it, Moggy-Mummikins usually do, mine in particular is a sucker for Persians, but I did think that I was the only one and that there would never be room in her heart for another. Why can’t she see him for what he is, he’s no good for her.

You may think I’m jealous, well you’re right. And devastated too. What have I done that she has to find comfort in the paws of this fripperous furry fusspot?

Mewsers, what can I do? He will only break her heart, he won’t love her 100% like I do, and he won’t be there for her when she’s crying into her pillow after a bad day. He won’t find her attractive like I do when she’s walking round with a mud pack on her face and henna on her hair. He won’t cuddle up in bed and be ‘Dr. Tushtots’ when she has a stinking cold and projectile snot. He certainly won’t purr accompaniments when she tunelessly sings along to Robbie Williams on the radio. All the time she cuddles him he will be looking over her shoulder for a better proposition. He’ll be off in a flash when he sees her in the bath, something I never would do. I always make a point of supervising her bath from the comfort of the laundry basket, although I must admit I have nodded off a couple of times with sheer boredom when she shaves her legs!!

I have worked so hard at my relationship with my Mummikins, and she’s about to throw it all away on a flick of a perfumed paw by some dodgy fly-by-night-furry. He’ll never be faithful to her; he’ll leave her in an instant when he gets bored. What have I done? What has gone wrong? Why has this happened?

What can I do Mewsers? I’m heartbroken. I honestly thought I was the only tom she ever wanted. I bet I’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong and he goes trotting off into the sunset after another piece of skirt ... without my Mummikins

Yours snivellingly, in floods of tears and with fur soaked with crying from behind the fridge

Tushtots

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