The Joys of the Shared Bed

One of the things I'm not good at is sharing, particularly my personal space.  Surprisingly I've never had to share a bedroom beyond 6-7 weeks at summer camp (and then it wasn't a bedroom, it was a bunk with a number of others) - not in prep school or college, and certainly not as an adult.  However one could argue that I share my life, including my bedroom and my bed, and have done for the past 25 years.

In December/January 1987/8 I was asked to sit for Chaser (soon to be renamed Howard) and he decided that sleeping in my bed was where he wanted to be.  Here's the problem: I had a twin bed, bought when I moved to NYC after college.  When he permanently joined my household later in 1988, I still had that twin bed.  Howard didn't understand that we needed to share that bed, or, more accurately, he didn't understand that he couldn't have the majority of the bed.  In 1990-ish, I needed to buy a new mattress and my parents very kindly offered to help.

This time I decided to be smart and purchase a full-size bed, much to their dismay.  A full-size bed is to be shared, not appropriate for a young, unmarried woman.  Still, I prevailed and Howard and I settled into a (slightly) more comfortable arrangement.  Then my parents visited and at one point my mother decided to take a nap.  Howard, a champion napper himself, decided to join her... and when she came into the living room after she woke up, she suggested that perhaps a queen-size bed would have been a better choice!

So for the past 24 years I've shared my bed with varying members of The Herd, with varying degrees of comfort.  Why do I do it?

  • the warm, purring presence
  • living toe-warmers
  • more fun to cuddle than a teddy bear
  • there's nothing like falling asleep holding paws
  • the purring
Of course, it's a mixed blessing:
Overall, I'm glad I share my space with The Herd.  And my bed.  Despite the snoring.

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