For Cleo. My heart aches.
As you know I went off in search of you, my Queen Cleopatra. I believed you had forsaken me for some nefarious Julius Caesar and was prepared to fight for, my ladylove.
I headed for the woods and fearlessly forged a path through the underbrush. You know how wide a space that would be. Meowing ‘Cleo’ deep into the forest, nothing was going to put me off finding you. Winning your hand was uppermost in my mind. Yes, I was prepared to pop the question.
With only thoughts of true love, the time flew by and before I knew it, it had grown dark. Stopping to get my bearings (and rest, you know exercise is not my forte) I meowed a few more time. To my astonishment I heard a return call. I lumbered towards the sound believing I had found my Queen.
Stomping over tree trunks, the noises grew louder. There was a clearing and yes, a plump, odd looking stray lay there chewing some grass. It was not you, my heart. But as you know, it is my mission to make every female feel special so I, naturally, went into flirt mode.
“You look lovely this evening, my sweetheart,” I had not lost my smooth.
With it being cool and pitch black now, she suggested we huddle together for warmth. I, foolishly, relented.
The next morning, with a grumbling tummy, I went in search of sustenance for the both of us. Returning with an empty hand and stomach (I might add) yet prepared to continue my search for you, my damsel, to my utter shock there were three tiny, wriggling creatures next to her.
She told me, “I was a father!”
Staggering backwards, I nearly ran away. Until feasting my eyes on those three white and ginger tykes. How could I abandon them? I took a sniff and gave them each a few licks and knew I would look after them. Great sobs escaped me when I remembered you, Cleo. I had brought shame and disgrace to our love.
After explaining all to my kitten Mama, she insisted we marry right away!
The wedding took place that night and now I am a married man-cat. We must remain no more than friends. Our love story has ended at Chapter 5. It shall read, ‘Tibbs is a cad.’ The End.
I spent the second night away from home, sobbing uncontrollably. Is this how most grooms spend their wedding night?
With great sadness I journeyed home. Thoughts of food were far from my mind. That will tell you just how distraught I am over this whole affair.
So, now the story is told. Cleo, my . . . (sniffs). Cleo, you cannot ever be mine and I shall not ever be yours. I am a broken Tom.
Mark Antony Tibbs