I Had to Choose Either the Girl or the Cat.

Here’s what happened . . .

My relationship with The Girl was not going well.

I moved out.

But before I get into that tawdry tale, let me explain my history with cats — that’s central to this relationship drama. I grew up in a remote area, atop a small mountain. End of the road. Nearest neighbor was one mile away.

People would drive up there and dump their unwanted cats. Frequently. Maybe they thought their cat would turn feral, eat vermin and live happily ever after. Or maybe they just didn’t give a shit. The latter, more likely.

“The coldest depth of Hell is reserved for people who abandon kittens.” ― Robert A. Heinlein

But the cats, knowing Fancy Feast is tastier than vermin and people are better buddies than squirrels, found our house. We had an ever-growing colony of cats and worshipped every one of them.

“In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.” — Terry Pratchett

Okay, back to The Girl. She was accustomed to always getting what she wanted. And she wanted me. So after I moved out she courted me. Energetically and methodically. Asking me out for dinner, movies, all the things a couple would do when first dating. But her courtship wasn’t working. And I felt guilty about prolonging a failed relationship. So when she invited me over to the house I saw that as my “it’s not you, it’s me” moment. I’d cut the cord decisively.

But little did I anticipate that she had one last weapon to deploy. A weapon that would be lethally effective on me.

I knocked on the door of the house where I had recently lived. The Girl invited me in, scurried off, and returned with Merlin. She’d already named the fluffy kitty. And if she thought little Merlin would perform magic on me, she was right.

Merlin and I immediately fell in love.

“What greater gift than the love of a cat.” — Charles Dickens

I moved back in.

Merlin and I were constant companions, inseparable. We played games. We read books together. We watched TV together. And, of course, Merlin always tried to help me write, his paws on my keyboard.

And more than anything, Merlin wanted to live on my lap.

“Holding this soft, small living creature in my lap this way and seeing how it slept with complete trust in me, I felt a warm rush in my chest.” ― Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

But even Merlin didn’t have enough magic to repair a rocky relationship.

In many ways, Merlin made it even worse. Why? Because Merlin preferred spending every moment with me, not The Girl. She was the third wheel.

The Girl went looney with jealousy. Jealous of a cat!

She even tried to bribe Merlin with Temptations cat treats, trying to get him to spend time with her. But Merlin wouldn’t be tempted by Temptations. It was me who Merlin wanted to spend time with.

I tried to make things work with The Girl, I really did. But it just wasn’t going to happen. Merlin and I had no choice but to leave. So Merlin dug an elaborate underground escape tunnel . . . okay okay okay, that’s not exactly what happened.

But Merlin and I did leave, to spend many joyous years together in the rainy Northwest.

“I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that’s all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice.” ― Charles Bukowski, Betting on the Muse

in my first article about Merlin I wrote about the game we played. In this article I write about the game I played with a slightly larger animal — a 2000 pound bull . . .