The Shoulder Promotion

The milestone had occurred just three weeks earlier. Ken and Toni had been curled up on the couch, Ken strumming Spanish melodies on his guitar while the Oregon rain tapped a gentle percussion against the windows. Samba, ever the music critic, had been watching from her cat tree when suddenly, without ceremony, she launched herself not onto Ken's shoulders—her usual perch—but onto Toni's.

The guitar playing stopped. Ken's mouth fell open. Toni froze, barely breathing.

"Don't move," Ken whispered. "This is like when the Queen knights someone."

"Should I bow?" Toni whispered back, feeling Samba's paws kneading her shoulder with the precise pressure of a shiatsu master.

"You've been officially adopted," Ken said with mock solemnity. "After sixteen years, the feline overlord has spoken."

What neither mentioned was how significant this moment felt—Samba's approval representing the final seal on their transition from friendship to partnership in every sense. The logical INTP and the dreamy INFP had found their perfect balance, and now even the cat had signed off on the arrangement.