When I attempted to climb into my side of the bed last night, Gary’s cat Rosie had other plans for me. Rosie stretched out languidly on my side of the bed, sideways to take up as room as possible, and smirked at me from his leisurely position as if to say, “Lady, there’s always the couch. Or that cat bed on the floor.”
Hmmmph. I asked him nicely once to move. He held his ground.
For his part, Gary was stretched out in bed, laughing at this little showdown and petting Rosie, which only encouraged Rosie’s misbehavior.
Even when I pulled the covers back, Rosie stubbornly rolled around in the bedspread like he was surfing a wave. I finally wrestled my way into bed and victoriously pulled the covers up as Rosie struggled to his paws and huffed off the bed.
My knight in shining armor was still chuckling in the bed beside me. I told Gary, “You know, petting him while he is being bad just encourages him.”
Does fighting the cat to get into bed count as a workout?