These are the two MacBeasts who doth murder sleep each morning. The ritual is, sometime around four o'clock, TiGrrr demands to be let under the blankets, where he curls up and finds ways to poke a lone claw, or sometimes two, into whichever sensitive area of flesh is left exposed to him as he grooms under the big top tent. Meanwhile, Peanut, not seeing TiGrrr any more, starts hopping back and forth across the highest point on the bed (that would be some part of my anatomy, usually one not designed to be a kitty trampoline).
After a few minutes, Peanut settles down on top of the next-lower lump in the covers (that would be TiGrrr's head), so TiGrrr goes into panic mode and tries to dig his way out from under the covers...through my legs.
Eventually, I have to help him escape, which wakes me completely, so I get out of bed, go to the room of rest, spend a few minutes on the commode, and return to find them smack dab in the center of my bed, cozy as you please, and not in the least inclined to move over to let me in under the blankets.
I don't know how these critters became so spoiled. Certainly I would never have let them get that way.
If you have an equally spoiled beastie you'd like to brag about, don't forget to submit your stories/pics to The Modulator's feature, Friday Ark (the instructions for submission are at the site), or to the Carnival of the Cats. Even if you don't have beasties at your place, please visit both of these, as they will likely introduce you to many living things worth meeting. Niobium will be hosting this Sunday's Carnival. Hope to see you there!