KTT no longer sleeps on the bed with us. It certainly couldn't be that he was no longer comfortable sleeping on my feet and making them go numb an hour after I lay down, so just figured it was because he was tired of me kicking him.

This morning I got up at 4 instead of the normal 5, thinking to spend an hour writing before the day kicks off with the barks from the garage and the television blaring to life. Came upstairs, not being particularly careful to stay quiet, but carpeted stairs and my cashmere-sock-clad feet didn't make much noise. Noticed that the door to the guest room was open, just a little.

Peeked in. And there was KTT, curled up on the bed next to the plush stuffed brown-and-white saint bernard. The one that used to live downstairs on the blanket chest at the foot of my bed. Before Jim decided he needed that space, too, for his clothes. (He'd already piled the chair so high you can't see the slipcover and I'm sure there's still a carpet on his bathroom floor but can't prove it.)

So either KTT got tired of having to negotiate the camouflage mountain to get onto the bed, or he missed his body buddy and decided to join him in the guest room.

Heck, if I'd known it would be that way, I'd have put that durn puppy upstairs months ago.