Most nights, I share my bed with two blond gentlemen named Jasper (after the national park in Canada, not Twilight) and Bogie (after Humphrey Bogart, not golf).
I’ve decided I like blonds because the hair doesn’t show as much on my light-colored counterpane.
They, like many males, hog the space and the covers, snore, and thrash around in the middle of the night. They are primarily motivated by food and demand that I wake up early to feed them, because we need to eat RIGHT NOW.
I admit, I’m weak, and I just can’t say no to faces like these. (And they’re both way more difficult to move than you’d think.)