My daughter’s cat Simon (19 pounds of attitude) has taken over every cat bed brought into the house.

When I work in the office upstairs, depending on the time of day, Tig is downstairs in the guest room staring out the window at Kitty TV (tons of birds in the trees in the back), bugging the crap out of me by wandering around the office trying to get me to play with him, or sleeping somewhere else, generally in my bedroom. His cat bed is downstairs in the laundry room, since he keeps me company when I blog/cook/etc. Then there is also the Gracie-smacks-Tig-in-the-face routine. That keeps him out of her cat bed, too.