This is not my house. There is no way this is my house.

Mittens has been going crazy with renovations. The walls shine with new paint, the furniture that he hasn’t replaced with more expensive versions has been polished up so much that it’s unrecognizable.

The decor is tastefully bland, screaming ‘this house belongs to a rich guy with no personality.’

I’m in my own home, but I feel homesick.

I hear the front door. Who will Mittens be bringing home from work today?

“You have such a lovely house.” says a simpering female voice.

What? There’s no mistaking her tone, she’s romantically interested in Mittens. Yuck.

“Why thank you. I’ve prepared dinner for us.”

So that’s what the grand nonsense on the table is.

They come into the room. She looks at me, polite disgust showing on her face.

“Is that a …cat? It doesn’t have fleas, does it?”

Mittens looks insulted, but by the time she looks back at him he’s pleasantly smiling again. The ice in it makes me shudder.

“You date me, you accept the cat.” he says extra pleasantly.

The woman, who is clearly dating him for the money, glances quickly from me to him.

“No, of course! As long as it doesn’t touch me I’m fine with it.” she says like keeping a cat is some kind of disgusting habit.

I would never, never date a woman like this. I absolutely will not stand for this. No.

I run up to her and start scratching whatever bits of her I can reach. She screeches and kicks me hard enough to knock me across the room.

Mittens grabs her shoulder and herds her back out the door, saying,

“Oh dear! Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

I don’t hear the woman immediately say anything about compensation for her injuries or suing him, probably because she thinks she still has a chance with him.

I know better. I have no idea why Mittens is dating, but he was definitely pretty insulted when she asked if I had fleas.

Mittens is back surprisingly soon.

“I handed her off to an ambulance crew.” he says as he takes his coat off.

“I do hope you’re not too injured, Mittens.” he says, crouching by me and feeling my ribs.

I’m bruised, but nothing is broken. He picks me up and puts me on the couch, sitting beside me.

“I never thought about love much beyond griping that I was lonely,”

He means me. I did not gripe. Okay, maybe I did, but I was thirty and had never dated! Give me a break.

“But I’ve realized something, Mittens.”

He pauses.

“I need a family. A wife. And…”

He smiles like a psycho cat who’s spotted a mouse.

“A child.”