On cats.

So our cat, Ophelia (a.k.a. Kitty), who’d slept in Derek’s bed her entire life, began boycotting our bedroom after we brought Daisy home in April 2008. (I think this is because for the first couple of weeks we put Daisy’s crate in the bedroom with us at night, but Kitty continued to withhold her affection long after Daisy was removed to the hallway.) About a month ago she took up with us again, installing herself nearly 24/7 in the middle of the bed the VERY DAY I put on a brand new duvet cover. Fortunately for us, the duvet cover is white and cat hair doesn’t really show up on it, so we were mostly happy that she decided to sleep with us again. This was clearly not her primary motivation, because she mostly abandoned the bed for the top of an open bag of clothes I’ve been meaning to take to the dry cleaner, which from her feline perspective is just a pile of dark, expensive clothing that cannot go in the washing machine. This bag has been sitting, growing, on top of a dresser for the past couple of weeks, so it has the added benefit of placing her literally above us when we are lying down. Just now, I went in and found her sneering at me from a new throne: the black sweater I wear ALL THE TIME that I carelessly left lying on top of another dresser yesterday. It takes me more energy than it’s probably worth to keep it relatively cat-hair free when she’s NOT using it for a bed. HOW DO CATS KNOW?

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