My wife’s evil cat hated me, so I secretly swapped it with a lookalike from the shelter. Weeks passed—she didn’t notice. Then one night, while watching TV, the new cat purred on her lap. She froze. “Did you wash her?”
Then a weird thing happened. “Her fur feels… softer,” my wife told. I laughed, “Maybe she’s just happier now.”
But then the cat ignored its name, didn’t react to her favorite treats, and wouldn’t sleep in the window — all things Muffin always did.
Suspicious, my wife pulled out old photos to compare markings. I felt sweat roll down my back.
Her voice dropped, “Where’s the black spot on her paw?”
