This story is about how a man chooses who and what is a part of his life, and he chose his cat and kitten over his girlfriend.
Azura and I had been together for four years when we moved in together. She wasn’t a cat person—not because she hated them, but due to mild allergies. She could be around them but couldn’t handle them being too close especially while sleeping.
I compromised. Jesse, my cat of nine years, stayed out of the bedroom and off the furniture—except for my seat in front of the TV. Not that it was a problem—she was antisocial, content to ignore Azura and stuck to her usual spaces.
Everything was fine, until I had to leave town for a two-week work trip and asked Azura if she’d be okay taking care of Jesse or if I should board her. She said she’d handle it. I trusted her. We talked almost every day. When I asked about Jesse, Azura always said she was fine.
Then I came home. And Jesse wasn’t there.
She hesitated. Then admitted they’d “gotten into it.”
Jesse had slipped into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, and peed on my pillow. Disgusting, sure, but I knew why. Cats mark things when they’re stressed. It wasn’t great behavior, but it was understandable.
What wasn’t understandable was that this happened ten days ago—and she never told me.
Already irritated and tired, I lost my temper. I demanded to know where my cat was. That’s when she dropped the bomb: She’d taken him to the nearest animal shelter. Just dumped her. I hadn’t even taken off my shoes before I was back out the door. Azura had the audacity to ask where we were going.
“I am going to the shelter. I don’t care where you’re going.”
Jesse first. I’d deal with her later.
Barely holding it together, I drove straight to the shelter. It took a lot of explaining to two different shelter workers before they let me into the kennels. And there he was. Jesse. Sitting in a cage, looking right at me. The moment she saw me, she let out a deep purr, and I swear I almost cried.
One of the shelter workers smiled at my relief as Jesse, standing on her hind paws, nuzzled against my neck and chest, purring like an engine in my ears. Then I noticed another tiny, furry object: A kitten, small and shy, huddled at the back of the cage. Jesse hadn’t just survived. She’d found family.
“Keluarga dia dah besar,” said one of the workers. I stared at the pair. At Jesse, then at the little black ball of fur. I extended a cautious hand and he sniffed, then nuzzled my fingers. I made a decision.
I won’t lie, a few rules were bent, one was broken outright but I’ll always be grateful. They even loaned me an extra carrier so I could take my family home.
Sitting in my car, I called my cousin, a lawyer and explained everything. He thought I was insane but agreed to help. Next, I called my uncle, a policeman. He had the same reaction, but also agreed.
An hour later, I pulled into the driveway. Azura was sitting on the garden swing. She smiled when she saw me—then faltered when I ignored her. Her frown deepened when my cousin and uncle arrived.
She opened her mouth, and I cut her off.
“Azura, you tried to kill my cat.”
She scoffed. “I took him to a shelter. He would’ve been adopted.”
I took a slow, steadying breath. “You dumped Jesse at a kill shelter. If no one adopted him in two weeks, she’d be euthanized.” Her face paled. “Ten days there, and she adopted an abandoned kitten. That meant someone would have to adopt both.” With my relatives present, I gave her a glare that would have turned ghee sour. “Get your things, give me your keys, and get out. We’re done.”
As she packed in stunned silence, I deleted our shared accounts and wiped her profiles from my devices and proceeded to change my status on FaceBook, and block her on everything.
Any lingering protests died on her lips when she came downstairs with her suitcases and saw Jesse glaring at her from the dining table, with a nose sticking cautiously out of an open carrier, also on the dining table.
With a lawyer and a policeman present, Azura knew better than to cause a scene.
With her mouth clamped shut, she stormed out, dragging her suitcase, pausing only long enough to slam the front door. We just watched her pile into her Grab.
Here’s the thing: when you adopt an animal, you take on a lifelong responsibility. Did I judge her harshly? Yes. A cat is not a person, but love them or hate them, how you treat any animal speaks volumes about you as a person. But if Azura could do this to my companion of almost a decade—I shudder to think what she could do to me, to our children or anyone else she dislikes or is an inconvenience to her.
She didn’t regret what she did. So I didn’t regret kicking her out.
Getting Aslan was a spur-of-the-moment decision. But I don’t regret that either. The pair sleep where Azura used to, and their combined bills are cheaper than what she cost me in dates, gifts, and drama.
So, yeah. I’m the crazy guy who got cats to get rid of his girlfriend. Anyone brave enough to date a cat-crazy, Malaysian software engineer?
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