When we brought Bessie Anne home from the shelter, I had a nice puffy dog bed for her next to the people bed and suggested she be trained to sleep there. Steve said, "No, she's too little and she needs to sleep with us." "Us" meant on my side next to me. And so it was. Later, when I was alone, Bessie moved over to the empty pillow and claimed that as her spot. That worked. When Ralph and Celeste moved in, they claimed the foot of the bed by my feet and I had no say in the matter. Since they stayed to the middle side of the bed, I might get pushed to the edge but could still poke a foot out from under the covers and I was okay with that. I'm one of those people who sleep "hot" even in winter and regulate heat by pushing a foot out to cool off. The last few nights I have awakened in a panic, not able to turn over and not able to get a foot free, blankets nailed down by Bess on one side and the cats on the other. It's positively claustrophobic and I'm helpless. The cats are heavier than the marble lions at the library and Bess, jammed against my back, is an immovable object. I'm trapped! Struggle as I might, I'm effectively cocooned. We're going to have to have a family meeting about this.
It was a good day, but a helluva night.