The Final Nip-Down

“Is we married? Nip is part of the sacred feline vows. Of course, in Mr. Tibbs case, it is ’til food do us part’.” Seanie Boy was as confused as I was about our ‘supposed’ nuptials.

“Don’t you, just, hate it when you’re so nipped up that you can’t remember if you got married or not?!” My head was too full of the meowie-wowie to think straight.

“JUST KNOW, I WAS NOT THERE!!!!” My, Marshmallow Cheeked, love shot back.

It was time to confess. How was I going to extricate myself from this unfortunate turn of events and explain the situation to everyone’s satisfaction? ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when so nipped up, we think we’re on shore leave.’ I knew in my heart of hearts, I was impelled, for honours sake, to be the one to break the news to my Lord. How would he take it? Would this information just crush him?

“My Lord . . . ” I began then hesitated long enough to take a hit of my latest discovery in the nip field. Silvervine! I continued with trepidation, “I may have married Seanie Boy? Not sure! I was so nipped up, I can’t remember the details.” My behaviour was distressing me, I can only imagine the disappointment that my Lord was feeling. He was bound to be devastated. “I may have to get in touch with Bella for a quickie divorce.” Bella Basset was, of course, the indomitable legal hound who managed to liberate my brofur, Tibbs, from an ill-fated marriage that he foolishly allowed himself to become ensnared in. “Or I could stay married to him ’til nip do us part’ as Seanie Boy says.”

As I awaited a response from the cheekiest Marshmallow Cheeks, the lawyer promptly replied to my call for help about the so-called marriage, “Yous no need him. Yous too purrty to be married. Yous need to be an alley cat, have fun and see the world.” Bella was full of wisdom. “Then again, stay married.” Like all good lawyers, Bella was prepared to argue the case in whatever way the client (me) wanted.

After due consideration, I answered, “I’m not sure what’s going to happen yet, Bella. Don’t stray too far from Twitter. I may need your services. You might start thinking up grounds for a divorce/annulment, in the meantime.” My lawyer had her instructions.

While the legal team (just Bella) got to work on a petition to end this possible happy union, my husband (?) chimed in with, “Sassenach, you is my modern Queen. A huntress and Warrior Princess. Whether we are married or not, whether you have multiple fiancés doesn’t matter. Kittiemama bought some more nip today. I finks I’ll continue where I left off last night. Care to join me, Patches, in the bliss of the nip box?

“Meowser . . . Seanie Boy . . . I’m in!” This white and grey Tom knew how to show a feline a good time.

“Yes my wife . . . um . . . I mean, my Queen! Come to Seanie Boy’s box of ill repute.

“Oooooo . . . getting the shakes . . . Seanie Boy . . . my husband?”

“In sickness and in nip . . . ”

“So long as we both shall nip . . .” I answered.

“I does . . .” Seanie Boy continued the vow.

This was getting out of hand. Divorce was looking less and less likely, never mind the heartache and sorrow I was causing Lord Graydon, the Handsomest Tom on Twitter.

Then the tweet that I was dreading finally came in. With a heavy heart Lord Graydon wrote, “Dat is one big ‘nip-over’ problem.” He sighed deeply. “Oh, She-😈, you do find yourself in some doozies . . . 😹😹😹😹😹”

His reaction stunned me. I had injured the grey and white BSH beyond reason. He was, obviously, shattered by my disreputable conduct. No matter how potent and abundant Seanie Boy’s nip supply was, we would have to remain engaged, never to marry (unless someone can prove we already made that mistake . . . I mean, went through with a beautiful wedding.)

To this day, my Lord plays at being annoyed by my persistent pursuit of him. But I shall repair the damage I have done by finally getting Lord Graydon it make me his Lady. (Or die trying.) No matter how long it takes.

Be warned my Lord, the chase is not over yet!