I spent a lot of my single time fearing the worst possible spinster outcome.
That I'd end up, the "Crazy Cat Lady."
Living in my tiny apartment with my furry best friend didn't help matters, as she became my fluffy shoulder to cry on, and the one thing that relied on me daily for love and life's necessities.
I was greeted at the front door everyday for 4 years with purrs and meows and I knew that no matter how long or hard my day seemed, that someone was waiting for me.
So you can imagine my sadness when my cat recently left me to move in with the man. The timing seemed right and I wanted her to get acquainted with the place on her own terms.
It seemed like a great idea and I sat at work excited about my cat-box-free apartment that I would get to enjoy for 30 days all on my own.
But when I got in the front door, no one was there to greet me.
No gray fur nuzzled on my calves while I prepared coffee.
And no one seemed interested in my microwaved dinner. (Somehow, the cat's jealousy made it taste better).
Wow. I thought.
I miss my cat more than my boyfriend.
Filled with worry that I was destined to be the crazy cat lady, boyfriend or not, I decided I would be visiting them after work the next day rather than spending more time alone. To hell with him, I thought. I need my cat!
With each turned corner on the way to my new home, I couldn't help but get excited at what awaited me at his place.
But rather than just a cat at my feet begging to be picked up.
I had a man at the door, with one in his arms.
Turns out, they both were happy to see me.