For a number of years now, Shel has complained of the cats monopolizing her space on the bed. Many's the morn when I wake up to a grumpy honey who can speak only of how little room she had during the night, thanks to the furry purries curling up around her at the most inopportune times--as in, mid-turn on the bed, or while lifting an arm--and staking out their pad for the evening. Understandably, to this point I inferred nothing deliberate about their actions; while I could plainly see the effects produced (a bad morning attitude), I wasn't sure how much credence should be lent to the slightly absurd claim that the cats were out to oust her.

But I fear I must reconsider my assumptions, though much to my dismay. Having stolen quietly into the bedroom one recent afternoon to grab some shoes, I came upon Edmund engaged in what can only be interpreted as a premeditated attempt to dislodge Shel from where she lay napping. As you will plainly see, he was putting all of his not-so-mickle might into the effort.



Edmund's brother has been notably quiet on the subject, and has shunned media coverage.

No more treats for you, bed hogs!