From Bad To Worse
Things were looking up. I was on my way to getting the marriage annulled (with the help of Lord Graydon who happened to know of a good lawyer, Bella Bassett.) Turns out the female that had hoodwinked me into marriage was not even a cat at all but a rabbit! Bella came up with a brilliant defence (temporary blindness) and I was well out of it.
The euphoria took over and when next tweeting with my Queen I got carried away, ‘I’m truly humbled by your generous nature, Babe. There’s no one in the world I’d rather . . . Oh, stuff it! Will you marry me?’
I’m embarrassed to admit it but this next bit of the story is where I come off looking like a total jerk. I was fraught with anticipation for her answer.
My Queen, of course, could not have been more gracious or level-headed. She suggested I take some time to think over my wayward proposal.
Being the hot-headed (and in my eyes, jilted) lover, I flew off the handle. I believed the feline I had given my heart to, had rejected me. Full stop. ‘Obviously, my bad behaviour is not forgiven. *sniffs loudly* I’ll carry a torch for you always, my Queen. But I understand. Tibbs *out*.
I was desvastated. Imagine if you will, plucking up the courage to ask your love to marry you and to give up flirting for that love, only to be told you are acting rashky. I would never relinquish my dailliances lightly.
‘Too late. I’m moving on. Thanks for the laughs, Babe. Mr. Tibbs, *putting on a grave front* *hurt beyond repair*’. I shot back when she tried to explain. This was my cold-hearted response and I was stubbornly sticking to it.
‘Nooooo! Tibbs . . .’ My Queen pleaded.
Try as she might to elucidate, I was obstinate and unwilling to listen. This led to a quick campaign to replace her. (As if that were possible). Others tried to get me to see sense. The sweet SassyCassyCat did her best to explain the misunderstanding. I refused to relent. ‘You’re wrong Sweetness Babe, all is not forgiven and Cleo has spurned me. I’m crushed. Mr. Tibbs.’ There is nothing so desperate as a broken-hearted fool. And fool I was.
I began to flirt with every lady cat I could. Holly Purr (Sweet Pea, I like to call her), Moët (to my shame I asked about her sisfur, Luna) and Cleo,Love (Cleo, my love, who is a fantastic friend); all of them were subject to my painful rejection. Luckily, they could see my pathetic behaviour for what it was; excruciating, disreputable conduct born of a failure to understand.
Then the green-eyed monster hit, as Cleopatra complimented the adorable Lord Graydon. ‘I hope Cleo and you will be happy together. Tibbs, *wipes tears away*. I did not mean any of it.
‘LG is my BSH friend and that’s all’. Cleo insisted.
I was having none of it. My tirade continued until my pal, Basil finally had become fed up. He tweeted a stern, ‘Enough of this! Cleo says she loves you. Be happy with that!’
‘Bas, I asked her to marry me, she told me to take a hike. My world has fallen apart. I may need professional help. Mr. Tibbs, *floundering*
‘Prove it. She did not reject you.’ Basil shot back.
The harsh words stunned me. Was it true? Had I been over-reacting this whole time?
I swallowed my pride and asked, ‘Cleo, the others are telling me you did not rebuff my proposal, is this true? Have I been a total bounder?’ To be honest, making up with her was uppermost in my mind. I did not want a future without her.
‘I wanted you to take things slowly and not make any hasty decisions.’ She answered truthfully.
She was thinking of me and my well being. I felt like a heel. ‘I’m a lout. A cad. Oh Cleo, I’ve been acting in such a churlish manner all day. I’m ashamed. Wouldn’t blame you if you chucked me for good. Mr. Tibbs.’
Next Chapter: Will this Angel forgive me?