Comrade: What would it take for you to get rid of Selina, so we can get a dog?
Me: Selina loves dogs, and dogs ... some dogs tolerate Selina.
Comrade: But she's The Worst cat.
Me: She's not the worst.
Selina runs into the kitchen, jumps on the table, knocking a full tub of duck sauce on my lap and the floor, then runs back out.
Me: I fucken hate that cat.
Comrade: Just think how much better ANY dog woud be.
Me: Well, not Any Dog. But ... yea, most dogs.
Selina runs into the overturned duck sauce, and runs out again.
I grab some paper towels and start cleaning up the duck sauce. "Can you ... put her in the other room while I clean this."
Comrade tries to corner Selina, she runs into the bedroom. Comrade goes into bedroom, Selina runs into the living room. Comrade goes into the living room, Selina runs back to the bedroom. Comrade begins squawking like a chicken and running at her, full speed. Selina runs into the office (aka The Cat Room), and Comrade shuts the door behind her.
Me: Thank you.
Comrade: Do I get some sort of reward?
Me: I'm going to slather you in duck sauce and--
Comrade: No. That is not something I'm going to do for you.
Me, invading his personal space: Quack for me.
Comrade: I've been meaning to ask you ... what do you think about having a more open relationship?