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Libby is Bruce's cat. She hangs on every word he says, follows him around, and can always be found in the center of everything when he's home. Either at his feet at the dinner table, or on his lap on the couch. He is the center of her life, so much that when we returned from vacation this summer, she made a beeline to him, passing me without even a look. 

I've known Libby for almost two years now, so it's not like we're strangers. I like her, and she likes me, probably only because she's forced to live with me. While my three cats are my 'kids', she's more like a good friend.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Tuesday night Bruce and I settled in for an episode of the fabulous documentary by Ken Burns, "The National Parks." Like any other night, Libby jumped on Bruce's lap. But this time, she kept walking, right into my lap! Bruce was shocked, and I was just as surprised. She snuggled down, closed her eyes and started purring. 

I'm certain she did this just to annoy my cats. It's clear she knows where she stands in the house. Her against my three. A weaker cat wouldn't have survived, but not Libby. She knows how to play this game, and she won the match point that night. My three looked up at the scene that was unfolding, and left the room. Disgusted that I had turned to the dark side.