Solomon Jones' feline makes a beeline to a tomcat

FINALLY, after seeking to have their relationship recognized by the masses, they achieved the goal for which they fought so valiantly.

After sneaking around in the darkness, hiding a love they should've been free to express, these star-crossed lovers have emerged victorious.

And I, for one, am happy for them.

No longer do they have to keep their love secret. No longer do they have to feel that their feelings are forbidden. Their bond to each other is now official, and it's a good thing, too. If they'd been forced to wait even one more minute, their passion would've exploded in an all-out rebellion against those who'd forced them to the margins.

But today, at long last, we can welcome them into the mainstream. We can tell them that they're beautiful. We can join them in a celebration of love.

So, why are they still meeting under the table in my backyard?

That's the question I keep asking every time I hear about our cat, Styx, and her secret meetings with her new beau, Mufasa.

It's not like we're adamantly opposed to their daytime trysts, the way we were in the days before Styx was spayed. Back then, we didn't allow her to keep male company. Not because we didn't think she had the right to love and be loved, but because we didn't want Styx to become a baby mama.

She deserved more dignity than that.

But now that Styx has obtained birth control, she's free to have a boyfriend, and while I would prefer to meet him first and give him the onceover, sometimes that's not possible.

Fortunately, we know Mufasa comes from a good family. He belongs to our neighbors across the street. He's named for the main character in "The Lion King," a noble lion who led his pride through difficulties with dignity and integrity.

Unfortunately, a good family and a good name aren't always enough to produce respectability.

And Mufasa, for lack of a better word, is a scoundrel.

Oh, sure, he looks innocent. But behind that fluffy fur and those hypnotizing eyes beats the heart of a gigolo. He creeps out of the neighbors' house and romances the neighborhood cats with shameless regularity, and all of them seem content to wait their turn.

Styx, for example, sits in the window, watching him intently as he shares countless meows with the cats across the street.

There's even a rumor that the brood of kittens that recently appeared on the block might be his. At least two of them have his eyes.

I hear that the mother is suing him for support. But word on the street says Mufasa is a deadbeat dad.

His kids are going to grow up to hate him.

Predictably, none of this matters to Styx.

I've heard LaVeta trying to tell Styx that Mufasa is not a one-woman cat, but the advice seems to go in one ear and out the other. In fact, everything we tell Styx goes in one ear and out the other. She's a cat. Her favorite activity is ignoring everything we say.

Wait. Scratch that. Ignoring us used to be Styx's favorite activity. Now it's lounging with Mufasa under our lawn furniture.

I haven't seen them back there yet - and thank goodness. I don't think I could stand to watch Styx being used that way. But to hear LaVeta and the kids tell it, things have gotten pretty hot and heavy under the table.

I don't like it, but I'm not going to stand in the way of Styx's happiness. If she wants to be just one more in the long line of cats that Mufasa has loved and left, that's her prerogative. If she wants to be his latest love toy, that's her problem.

As long as she doesn't bring any kittens into my house, I guess I can deal with it.

Score another win for love.