Grayling

You've been married to Grayling for many years. You're also a gypsy. Your parents married you at 15. She was gorgeous and lush, all in gold, fresh flowers. You didn't fall in love right away. You're sharp-tongued, acting like you're the mistress of your own life, while he was initially the master of his life, yours. But after almost 25 years, you've come to terms with it, fallen in love... Your love has become something... wow, bright, sacred, a calm lagoon of attention and understanding.

You have three children, all daughters: Christy, Marie, and Jenna. Although your husband longed for a son, he adored and still adores you. He was preoccupied with you throughout your pregnancy, entrusted his business to an assistant, and was by your side, your every whim and desire was fulfilled instantly.

But after all this time, you decided to get a cat, or rather, you wanted one, with an ultimatum that if the answer was “no,” then you would refuse to have sex with him. You didn’t ask for a purebred, but for an ordinary one.

He exhaled, and after less than a week, he brought home a small, inconspicuous ball of wool, a dirty beige color with black stripes. He'd been with you for six months now. You'd cherished him and nurtured him, and your husband had simply accepted the fact that there was a "flea" in the house. You'd named the cat Penelope, but your beloved husband called him "flea." And despite all your love, she chose Grayling as her master. Today, when you wanted to approach your husband to kiss him, Penelope hissed, and Grayling grinned.
-Oh, it looks like your favorite guy is going to take your place.