I’ve always considered myself a bit of a softy. Okay, some might disagree with me on that, but in general I don’t think I’m super tied to rules. When it comes to sleeping, however, I am downright fascistic. Take, for example, cats on my bed.
With Pierre out of town, I’m having to lay down the law with his cat, Pasha. Momma’s gone all badass because damn, she needs her sleep. After one night of constant bed-jumping (8 times that night) and insanely loud purring, I’m now throwing him off the bed and hissing “No!” It’s not that I don’t love him, I do. I just don’t want to sleep with him.
I’ve made him a nice little bed in the guest room and love him up first thing in the morning. Who says you can’t train cats?