Normally, I sleep with weiners. The dogs, you perverts. Me, hubby, and mini weiners Bon-Bon and Drusilla. With Spike in his crate at the foot of the bed. Drusilla can be a little restless. She's young and squirmy. Bon-Bon, at 14 and blind, sleeps the sleep of well-tended old age.
With the coming of summer comes early sunlight, and the pups were waking me too early. So I stopped bringing them in at night. It's warm and they have a secure enclosure outside. All is good, and I get to sleep 'til I have to wake up.
Well, last night hubby decided that if the baby weiners weren't coming in then his pussies could sleep with us. That's 14 year old tuxedo tom Ivan, 13 year old dilute torti-tabby puss Elsa, and 5 year old silver classic tabby Mainecoon tom Max (aka: Monstro, aka: Gozer the Destructor, aka: Baby Huey).
Let me draw you a picture (sorta): Hubby is on his side of the bed, on his side. I am on my side, flat on my back. Bon-Bon is tucked between our pillows, sound asleep like the little dear she is. Elsa is curled up on my pillow, her hot furry body plastered against my ear. Ivan is perched on my chest, head butted against my chin and hard little front feet leaving bruises on my boobies. (You remember Beevis and Butthead?) Purring like the little freak in a moth-eaten tuxedo that he is. Max is sprawled on my lower body. He's half as long as I am tall.
Sometime during the fitful night Max left to sleep in the bathroom and Elsa took his place. Then peed on me. I finished the night on the livingroom couch. With weiner Bon-Bon. Man, I'm tired. Grumble.