The battle of who loves who more.

No. Stop gagging. This isn't about The Fiance and I ending conversations with,

"I love you."
"No, I love YOU."
"No, I love you MORE."
"Nooo. I love YOU more."

No, please. None of that.

This is more crucial. This may or may not define my future. This is about which Cat loves who more.

It's been a battle long in the making. Every time a Cat looks at The Fiance I hear, "See. Did you SEE that? She loves me." Or, like tonight for example, when Harley licked his fingers. "Harley licked me. Did you see that. She loves me. Does she lick you?"

Little did he know he probably had remnants of a bloody mary on his fingers.

I happen to know The Cats love ME, but I may be bias. I mean, I only raised them and feed them and water them and clean their litterbox. And Chicken? She sleeps next to ME in bed. Me. And Chicken is known to hide in dark corners, brooding, while listening to Yanni, OK. It's special when she picks your side of the bed to curl into a Cat Ball at night.

However, this afternoon I may or may not have made an off-handed comment about skinning Harley and eating her for dinner. Ha. Ha, ha. I was KIDDING, people. It was a joke. Besides, when I asked what to make for dinner, The Fiance suggested Harley.

So, sure enough, The Fiance threatens to run home to be the first to tell Harley that, "HA, HA. Mom wants to skin you alive! SEE? Love ME. ME. Pick ME."

Silly man. I beat him home.

But as soon as he sat down on the couch tonight, he grabs Harley and sits her square on her butt on his lap. And a conversation much like this took place:

"Harley. Look at me. No, don't look at Mom. Look at me."

(Harley continues to stare at things such as the wall, the blinds, the air! Look! Air!)

"Harley. I need to tell you something. No. Look at me, Harley."

(La, la, la. Harley hasn't a clue).

"Harley. I know this is hard. But Mom? She wants to skin you alive and turn you into a purse. Yes, a purse. She told me."

(Harley, still not paying attention. Me, suddenly aghast).

"I don't want to turn her into a purse!"

"Harley, don't listen to her."

"You're the one that said to cook her for dinner!"

"Harley, she's lying."

"We'd HAVE to skin her if we were going to eat her. We can't eat her fur!"

And The Battle rages on. To be continued.