We discovered we get the maximum amount of sleep if he’s in our room and on our bed. Correction: we get the most sleep if he allows us to sleep in the big queen-sized bed with him.
If he deigns to sleep at our feet, I get a pillow all to myself. If I keep my feet very still and don’t bother him with my need for circulation in my extremities, he doesn’t turn into a snapping orange puffball of fury. Furry fury.
When I buy him the right brand of food, he digests it all the way through his digestive system. Then I am allowed to pick it up off the lawn with a plastic grocery bag that almost completely protects me perceiving odor, warmth, and squishiness.
One time I was sad and he ate glitter just to cheer me up with a little surprise. It’s these small considerations that capture my heart.
No matter that he won’t let me put him in his Boba Fett outfit without drawing blood. Who cares that he won’t ride on the Roomba and let me film it for YouTube profit and glory? All that matters is that when it’s time for him to walk me outside, he spins around in a circle until he throws up a crayon.
At least he’s not too demanding of the décor. We considered pricing a neon sign to hang over his favorite buffet, but the cat is very territorial of her litter box.