Fifty is a Spooner

The combination of soft bed and a cold house leads Fifty to ignore her survival instincts.

She's a heat seeking napper.

As cute as she is, I'd much rather her spoon with the dogs than, for example, my head. It's hard to sleep with claws so close to my face and an extra loud purring machine in my ear. The cuteness factor fades fast. My dogs, however, are equipped with fur to protect their sensitive skin and she normally doesn't purr when she sidles up next to them. I think even she knows that purring in their ear would be pushing it. The suppression of natural instincts is a precarious balancing act.

Any aspirations my crew may have about running for office will never be realized. I have too many incriminating boudoir pictures of them.