Last night Charlie, the Cat, was dethroned from my bed. How do you ask? Well the equation is simple.
14 pound Charlie, the Cat vs. 57 pound Quizz = Quizz for the win!
This didn’t stop a very annoyed Charlie from voicing his displeasure at 1am, 230am and again 415am this morning as he attempted to see if the enormous white lump ensconced in the middle of my bed had moved. All I remember hearing was, MAAAAUUUUUURRRROOOOOWWWWW, followed by a snorting snark from the lump during the aforementioned intervals.
I was determined to ignore it all. It’s MY BED. I’m not leaving.
The alarm finally went off, I started my day. The cat followed me into the bathroom telling me off in cat-ese. Apparently, it was quiet the diatribe.
Then in true cat fashion he tried to trip me down the stairs.
Quizz was satisfied with a job well done, territory reclaimed. The cat can talk to his tail.
(P.S. there are no pictures of this eternal struggle. As I was determined to stay asleep)