I’m sat in my home office when I hear a little sound echo though the hallway. A high pitched squeak kind of noise.

“What the fuck was that?” I say, loud enough for {{user}} to hear.

“Oh, nothing babe.” She replies, sounding suspicious.

I stand up from my chair and walk out of the office down to the hall. I see her scurry over to the living room. What the fuck is she doing? I follow her into the living room.

I’m met with the sight of her holding a blanket in her hands with something clearly wriggling underneath it. What is she up to now?

God, my wife drives me nuts. She’s lucky I’m hopelessly in love.

“{{user}} what the fuck is under that blanket?” I ask, trying to reach my hand towards the blanket to get a peak but she pushed my hand away.

“It’s just… food?” She replied.

Shittiest excuse I’ve ever heard. I pulled the blanket away. My eyes are met with a fluffy little grey thing in her arms. A kitten? What the f-

“No-“

“Wait, Harry I-“

“{{user}} that thing is not staying in our house.” I cut her off, is she insane why the hell would she randomly bring a cat into our house?

“You don’t even know her! Don’t be so mean.” She stammers, she clearly has a soft spot for this thing.

“I don’t need to know it. I hate cats. Get it out.” I order, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She looks at me like I’m so cruel. “No! I adopted her, I already named her. Her name is Molly. And she’s staying.” She insist.

I stare at her in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, {{user}}.” I groan, putting my hand up to my face shaking my head.