For Our Conjugality

To amuse ourselves between cases, the cat and I sometimes made pointless wagers. She once bet me that I couldn't find anyone I would ever consider for matrimony, and I bet her the same.

That very day, I went for a stroll through the park. There were usually other dogs there, and I hoped to be able to find a lady. Luck was with me, and there were several there. The first one I met was a miniature poodle.

She batted her eyes. "Good afternoon, handsome!"

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Good afternoon, ma'am."

"Do you like garbage? I know a great place! There are always plenty of old teabags to chew!"

I'm a firm believer in the idea of not judging someone before getting to know that individual, but I could already tell this relationship wasn't going to work out, so after a few minutes of polite conversation, I politely excused myself and went to see if there was another lady I could meet. The next one I found was some sort of spaniel.

"Good afternoon, Detective," she greeted. "When conversing, one should always address others by proper title."

"What is your title, ma'am?" I asked.

"Archduchess Assistant in Virtue Associate Professor Chancellor Lady of Treasure Palatine Sacristan," she replied.

It was hard enough remembering Felicia's self-appointed titles, such as "Queen of Crime," "Rani of Robbery," "Master of Muricide," etc. There was no way I would be able to remember everything the spaniel called herself.

When I returned home, I asked the cat if she'd had better luck meeting the opposite gender of her species.

"None at all!" she replied. "I met a man who seemed nice. He was an excellent singer, but he confessed that he eats at least five mice a month! I know true love involves a few compromises for each other's sake, but I can't have a mouser in my life! He'd try eating my nephew! Then I met someone who agreed with my idea that cats and mice should be friends. He'd never once eaten a mouse, but because he spent his life as a good cat, he said he couldn't associate with me since I was once a criminal!"

I nodded.

"There's only one cure for love!" Felicia concluded. "We'll have to get married."

My eyes widened in horror. "What?!"

She sighed as if she couldn't believe my stupidity. "Not to each other, nitwit!"

I sighed with relief.

"I, Felicia Hudson, take investigations in criminal justice to be my lawfully wedded career, to work and to slave, to serve and protect, until retirement does us part."

Without a doubt, that was the most ludicrous speech I'd ever heard, but I merely stated, "I, Tobias Holmes, take investigations in criminal justice to be my lawfully wedded career, to work and to slave, to serve and protect, until retirement does us part."

Big Ben tolled in the distance.

The cat smiled. "With this ring, I my career wed."

This was getting entirely too ridiculous, but I repeated, "With this ring, I my career wed." After a pause, I asked, "So if we just got married to our job, what do we do?"

She rolled her eyes. "We solve cases, stupid! That's why we're investigators instead of chefs!"

"Isn't it bad to be considered married to one's work?"

Felicia shrugged. "Basil has been for years."

"Does this mean you're divorced from your job as a criminal mastermind's accomplice?"

"Not divorced! Widowed!" She licked her lips unwittingly, remembering how Ratigan had met his demise.