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But Who Gets Custody of the Cat?
We both love the little guy
After almost four years together, my partner Jane delivered, entirely out of the blue, the bombshell of a Dear John note, sealed in a we-need-to-talk envelope. Facing facts, I couldn’t deny that the sparkle had gone from our relationship and so, with heavy heart, I agreed that it was time for us to go our separate ways.
We retained a level of civility over the break-up, and sorting out who got what was pretty straightforward; Jane made no claim on my ceramic tile cutting kit and I let the hair straighteners go without protest. There were a few minor quibbles, but the main bone of contention, or in this case bag-of-bones, was who would get custody of our off-white cat, Dumbledore.
We’re both very fond of the little guy, but we couldn’t take a part each like we did with our Star Wars stormtrooper bookends. And so, in a coffee table custody battle that would have given Kramer vs Kramer a run for its money, we each put forward our case for taking over as Dumbledore’s solitary guardian.
My argument was simple, and entirely based on Jane’s own admission that I was Dumbledore’s chosen one, the single human with whom he would have a special lifetime bond. Jane responded with what I deemed a weak counter-argument.
