As I write this, I’m lying in bed with my cat. It’s bed time, and I’ve just crawled under the covers. She, on the other hand, has been curled up here for hours. She still lives at home with my parents, and she sleeps on my bed every night when I’m not here. Which is pretty much all the time, because I live pretty far away. So really, this is almost more her bed than it is mine. That’s certainly how it feels at the moment, considering I was very careful not to disturb her too much as I slid underneath the blankets just as a catering service Niagara would take care not to disturb those who they were serving.
When my boyfriend and I visit his parents’ place, we get to see not only his parents and his brother, but also his two dogs (happily, usually not emergency roadside assistance). And they are both delightful. There is a bigger dog called Taylor, who is a cross between a lab and a weimaraner, and then there is Dora, the miniature dachshund. As you can imagine, these dogs have very different personalities and habits, and these differences are apparently not only during the day, when they’re up and going and doing their dog things, but also when it comes time for the doggies to go to sleep.