This is my kitty, Phoebe:
She is at her happiest when trying to wedge her little furry body between me and my often absent hubby.
This morning at 6:30 AM she walked up my legs and stopped. I could feel her tiny beady eyes boring into my forehead, but I chose to remain motionless, snuggled against Harry's back. Phoebe purred loudly and contemplated her next move.
And then I made the mistake of opening one eye. Phoebe shot like a Torpedo up to the top of the bed, turned two circles - and plopped her big furry butt down - on Harry's head.
"What the - ?" Harry murmured and fell back to sleep. His even snores drowned out by the loud purring of the she-beast sitting atop his head like a furry turban.
I could've rescued him.
They made up later - Phoebe offered him her nice sofy belly to rub - and he obliged.
And then she bit him.