"Per-sephone?" Hades' voice was slightly strained. "What is that?"
"It's a kitten, obviously," his wife answered, snuggling the tiny grey ball close to her face. "Isn't she adorable?"
"Yes... Yes, she's lovely, darling, but consider: what will Cerberus think?"
"Nightshade can hold her own against that overgrown puppy." Persephone rolled her eyes at her husband's mock-pout.
"You named her Nightshade?"
"It's a sight better than Spot."
Hades gave up. He never won against the Queen of the Underworld. He never had.
As it turned out, Persephone was right. The kitten could definitely hold her own against Cerberus, and in fact the idiot dog was terrified of the cat, shrinking back whenever Nightshade deigned to cross his path.
Hades wasn't jealous of it. He most certainly was not upset that Persephone spent most of her free time with that stupid cat. That was totally fine.
He might have taken longer to deliberate on the soul of the person who gave the cat to his wife. Might have. But of course Persephone prevailed and the soul was sent to Elysium.
Over a cat.
It was an outrage.
When Persephone left for her six-month stay in the upper realm, the cat stayed behind. Apparently, it preferred the Underworld and the darkness of the palace to the meadows above.
Hades supposed as long as the thing stayed out of his way, it would be all right.
When he entered the throne room the morning after Persephone's departure, the cat was sitting on her throne.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Mrow?" the cat answered, as if asking why he would be so confused.
"You can't just sit on her throne. What are you going to do next, judge the souls with me?"
He could swear that the cat smirked at him.
Sometimes the cat made decent judgements, he'd give it that. Sometimes when he was wavering (Elysium or Asphodel? Asphodel or Tartarus?) the cat would hiss or purr and by the end of the six months, he started to see her (its!) points.
Persephone laughed for days.
Hades couldn't bring himself to care.