My beloved gave me an ultimatum: “Its me or your cats,” and so I helped him pack his bags
Fur again! Look at this jacket, Emily! James bellowed from the hallway. I just picked it up from the cleaners yesterday, and now it looks like Ive taken up residence in an animal shelter. How much more of this am I meant to endure?
James’ voice rang with that sharp note it had acquired over the past few monthsfor the smallest of reasons. Emily, who was at the cooker flipping pancakes, sighed, switched off the hob, and turned around. James stood in the hallway, arms outstretched, displaying the navy blazer speckled with a few white hairs.
James, honestly, is all that shouting necessary? she asked calmly as she wiped her hands on her apron. Ive told you not to leave your clothes on the back of the chair in the lounge. You know that Jasper loves to nap there. If youd put your things away, there wouldnt be any cat hair. Hand it over, Ill sort it.
She took a lint roller from the hall tablea fixture by nowand made quick work of the jacket. In moments, it was spotless. But James face stayed twisted in displeasure. He jerked his arm away as if shed hurt him, brushing himself off as though contaminated.
Its not about the wardrobe, Em! Its the fact you cant even breathe in this flat thanks to your animals. Dont sit on the sofa, dont step on the rugeverywhere, food bowls, litter trays, scratching posts. I come home for a bit of peace, not to dodge a bloody obstacle course! Youve turned this place into a menagerie!
Emily bit her tongue, feeling the usual wave of hurt rise within her. Our home? That was quite a statement. The spacious three-bedroom flat in a Victorian terrace was hersleft to her by her grandmother long before she’d met James. Hed moved in with a suitcase and a laptop five years ago when they married. Back then, hed found her laid-back British Blue Jasper and timid calico Molly endearing, going so far as to scratch Jasper behind the ears and claim pets made a house a home.
But the honeymoon ended. Daily life wore away the charm, and James revealed himself as someone who craved clinical order and absolute attention.
James, we only have two cats, Emily reminded gently, pouring him a coffee. Theyve lived here since before you moved in. Theyre family.
Family! he scoffed, sitting heavily at the table. Theyre just animals, Em. Useless freeloaderseating and sleeping. You know how much you spend on their food? I saw the bill you left on the mantel. Thirty quid on dry biscuits! And then you lecture me about saving for a holiday.
Its prescription food, Jasper has a kidney thing, you know that, Emily set down his cup. And I pay for it with my own salary. Ive never touched a penny of yours.
We share a budget! James snapped, slapping the table so the spoon rattled. If you spend your wages on cat food, that means I have to buy the groceries. Its basic maths!
Staring at him, Emily struggled to recognise the man who once brought her flowers, who once recited poetry. All she saw now was a petty, grumbling man. She knew things had grown tense at his worktheyd restructured his department, and James feared redundancy. Somehow, though, he always took it out on herand on the cats.
At that moment, Jasper sauntered into the kitchen, tail held high, green eyes wise and gentle, rubbing against her legs and meowing for breakfast.
Get out! James barked, stomping his foot.
The cat sprang back in fright, skidding on the laminate and, as he tried to steady himself, snagging James trouser leg with a claw. There was a distinct tearing sound.
For a moment, silence. James slowly looked down at his expensive grey trousersnow sporting a neatly torn patch.
Thats it, he whispered, his voice icy. That was the last straw.
Leaping to his feet, he knocked over his chair, face turning blotchy with fury.
Ive put up with this for five years! Fur in my soup, stench from the litter tray, demented cat races in the middle of the night! But ruining my clothes? Emily, I want an answer.
Emily froze, hands pressed to her chest. Jasper, sensing danger, scarpered under the sofa. Molly, whod been snoozing on the windowsill, flicked an ear.
What answer, James? she asked, quietly.
Its me or those beasts, he said, staring into her eyes. You have until this evening. When I get back from work, I dont want any trace of them here. Give them to your mum, dump them on the street, take them to a shelterI dont care. But I wont live with them another day. I deserve some respect!
Youre serious? Emily could barely believe him. Youre giving me an ultimatum? Because of your trousers?
Not the trousers! Its about your priorities! You care more for those flea-ridden cats than your own husband. Prove me wrong. Ill see this evening.
He grabbed his laptop bag, stormed out before finishing his coffee, and slammed the door so hard the calendar dropped from the wall.
Emily stood alone in the kitchen, dazed. Mechanically, she replaced the calendar, sat down, and weptnot out of heartbreak, but the helpless ache of disappointment. How could he ask her to betray beings that depended on her? Jasper was twelvean old man with failing health. Molly was so timid; she wouldnt survive a night outside.
Jasper peeked at her from under the sofa. Sensing the coast was clear, he wobbled over, rose up to place his paws on her knees, and purreda deep, soothing rumble. Emily buried her face in his thick fur.
Im not giving you up to anyone, she whispered. Its nonsense.
The day drifted by in a haze. Emily rang work, took the day off citing illness. She couldnt focus on her job. She pottered around the flat, rearranging trinkets and watering her succulents, lost in thought.
She recalled how James had roughly nudged Molly when she once crossed his path in the dark, then pretended it was an accident. How hed banned the cats from the bedroom, leaving them to paw sadly at the door. His constant complaints about money, though she earned as much as him, and the flatplus its billswere hers alone.
By lunchtime, her thoughts cleared, leaving a strange, cold clarity. She realised James ultimatum wasnt a casual outburstit was a test of power. Anyone who would force you to choose between love for them and your responsibility to a helpless creature deserved neither. Today it was the cats. Tomorrow, maybe her aging mother. Someday, even herself, if she became inconvenient.
She checked the clock: four oclock. James would be home by seven. Plenty of time.
Emily went to the bedroom, retrieved the big wheeled suitcase from the wardrobethe same one theyd taken to Greece two years ago. She wiped off the dust and unzipped it, the case gaping, ready to swallow a life.
She packed methodically, suit after suit, folding trousers and jackets with care. Shirts, jumpers, jeans. At one point, nerves gripped her. Was she doing the right thing? Was this just a rough patch, something they could talk through? Then she remembered the coldness in James eyes that morningfull of contempt. Useless parasites. You cant reason with someones self-absorption.
She was stashing his socks and underwear when the doorbell rang. Emily flinched. Was he home early? But James had keys. She peered through the spyholeit was Mrs. Smith from next door, always borrowing a bit of milk or stopping for a natter.
Emily opened up.
Evening, love, Mrs. Smith chattered. Saw your chap bolt out this morning, he was slamming about something awful. Everything alright?
All good, Mrs. Smith, Emily replied calmly. Just sorting some living arrangements.
Oh, good to hear. You dont look yourself, dear. Pop by for a cuppa tonight, Ive baked a lovely apple tart.
Thanks, I will if I can.
Emily closed the door and got back to packingJames bits from the bathroom: toothbrush, razor, aftershave, deodorant, all crammed into his washbag. Shoesboots, trainers, slippers.
By six, two suitcases and a hefty sports bag stood in the corridor. The flat seemed somehow roomier and, for the first time, not invaded but lighter, as if something unhealthy had been cut away.
Emily made herself a mint tea, filled the cats bowls, and curled up in her living room chair. Jasper curled at her feet; Molly perched on the armrest.
Quarter past sevenshe heard the key at the door. She sat perfectly still as James entered, puffing as usualprobably the lift was broken again and hed trekked up the stairs.
Well? he called, oozing smugness. You made the right call, darling? Where are those furballs? Please tell me theyre out of my hair.
He swaggered into the lounge, not even bothering with his shoes, and stopped short.
Emily sat in her chair, tea in hand. Both cats lounged nearbyJasper lazily flicked an eyelid, the very picture of indifference.
I dont believe it, James face turned crimson. I said: me or them! Are you deaf? Do you want to play with fire?
I heard you perfectly, James, Emily replied, setting her cup down. And Ive made my choice.
Well? Where are those pests gone?
This is their home. Your choice is waiting in the hallway.
James frowned, stomped into the corridor, and tripped over a suitcase.
Whats all this? his voice cracked.
He reappeared, eyes widenot triumphant, but afraid and disbelieving.
You you packed my things? Youre kicking me out? Over some cats?!
Not over cats, James. Because you forced me to choose. Someone who cares doesnt make demands like that. They look for solutions together. You wanted to bend me, to winnot love. Thats not strength, its weakness.
Youre mad! he shouted, arms flailing. Youre past forty! Whos going to want you and your cats? I put up with you, I paid the bills! Youll be crawling back in a week! Youll be lost without me!
My names on the deeds, Ive got a good job, and my salary pays the bills, Emily ticked off her fingers. No more picking up after a grown man. No more stress. Honestly, James, I think Ill manage. I might finally get a rest.
Fine! He stormed at her, but Jasper suddenly sprang up, arched his back and let out a low, guttural hiss. The move was so unexpected James recoiled.
Stay here then! he spat. Rot with your mangy cats. Ill find a proper woman who appreciates me! Youll regret this, mark my words!
He stomped out to the corridor. Emily heard him fumbling with his suitcases.
My laptop? he shouted.
Side pocket of the bag.
And my documents?
Folder, top of the suitcase. I packed everythingeven your favourite mug.
Her composure infuriated him most of all. If shed screamed, broken down, flung crockeryit would have proven he still held sway. But her icy calm seemed to kill his pride.
For another minute he muttered in the hall, no doubt hoping shed race after him, beg for forgiveness. Emily didnt move.
The door slammed at lasthard, final. Suitcase wheels clattered down the tiled stairs, then silence.
Emily sat, listening to herselfexpecting, perhaps, pain or regret. Instead, she felt only a warm, spreading relief. Like finally setting down a rucksack filled with stones.
Jasper nudged her hand. Emily scratched his ear.
Well, my brave boy, she said with a smile. Weve chased out the bogeyman?
Molly, emboldened, jumped into her lap, curling up.
An hour later, her phone rang. James lit up the screen. Emily grimaced, pressed the block button, renamed the contact James Ex, and thendecisivelydeleted the number.
She poured herself a glass of wineleft over from Christmasand made a cheese toastie. Tonight, she felt peace for the first time in years. Tomorrow, she knew, might be a nuisance. James might call, might pester, maybe even threaten legal nonsensethough everything in the flat was hers, and his car was on his own loan. But that was tomorrows problem.
Tonight she was home. Truly home. She could hang a jacket anywhere, let toast crumbs fall to the rug, and no one would kick her cat simply for being affectionate.
The doorbell rang again. Emily tensed, but the ring was brisk, gentlecertainly not James.
She opened up. Mrs. Smith stood outside, a hot plate covered with a tea towel.
Emily, love, I baked cabbage pie and thought you might like somestill piping! Heard your chap with his cases thundering down the stairs. Off on a work trip?
Emily glanced at her kind neighbour, then at her two cats peeking round the doorframe with wide eyes.
No, Mrs. Smith, she smiled, taking the plate, hes moved out. For good, this time. Come in for a cup of tea? Ive all the time in the world, and its lovely and quiet now.
The evening was perfecttea, pie, purring cats. For the first time in five years, Emily felt content. She realised something simple: loneliness isnt when youre alone with your cats. Loneliness is sharing your life with someone who doesnt care about you, forcing yourself to betray who you are just to win fragile approval.
And the cats? The next day, she treated them to a proper groomers appointment. Let them be pamperedtheyd earned it. After all, theyd helped her sweep the real rubbish from her life.
Sometimes, standing up for those without a voice teaches you to finally find your own.
