Living with a cat is a battle of wits. This is true of any cat. All cats are smart, but some are kitty geniuses. One of those is the cat who lives with me, Harmony.
Harmony is a pint-sized blackmailer. She has figured out how to extort treats from me, and it’s easy. When she sees I am about to leave the apartment, she comes over to me and threatens to run out into the hallway when I open the door. To prevent this, I get a handful of treats and put them into her food dish. While she is enjoying her ill-gotten gains, I slip out the door. This results in a happy cat and a mildly disgruntled human.
The bed is another bone of contention. Harmony can be a bed hog when she wants to be one. She does this by parking herself smack in the middle of the bed and refusing to budge when I want to lie down. I end up lying on the edge of the bed, with the cat taking up two-thirds of it. Picking her up is not an option. She is allergic to being picked up, and she has claws. My only option is to lie down, crowd her and push on her until she gets disgusted and moves. At this point, she is ready to give me the cold shoulder, but I don’t care. I have the bed. Human 1, cat 0.
Despite everything, I love that cat, and she loves me. That’s all that matters.