Life of FiFi Bofinkles

FiFi Bofinkles lets you know when she’s arrived.   Right now I  know she’s here because she’s sprawled out in my lap, paws pressed into my leg, tail wrapped around my waist, occasionally batting her eyelashes at me when I need to rub her belly harder.  When Bofinks arrived we quickly learned she doesn’t just lay in a area, she exists in that area, she becomes that area.  She’s not one to curl up into a ball, instead she likes to stretch it all out.  If you’re in the way, oh well, you’re going to have a Bofinks legs on top of you then.
This is her life:
When I wake up in the morning, either there’s a Bofinks on my  head, or she’s sharing (that means I get 20%, she gets 80%) my pillow.  I see her bright green eyes just staring at me. She’s slightly in a daze, wondering if she really wants to wake up or should go back to sleep for a few more hours. 
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I slip out of bed very slowly, bending my legs in ways that I didn’t think were possible just so I don’t make Bofinks uncomfortable and angry.  When I finally somersault onto the floor, I get up and look at her.  She’s made herself more comfortable and has slipped under the comforter.  Is this a person or a cat? 
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When she finally wakes up, I kiss her, I hug her. I wrap my arms around Bofinks and Xanadu at the same time and make them both angry.  I am very happy though.
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The sun hits, the cats move themselves every hour to catch the sun directly.  Bofinks has this down to a science.  She’s laying on paint brushes, her bright pink belly is out, she doesn’t have a care in the world. I give her belly a rub, she flexes her paws at me to thank me but doesn’t open a eye.
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It’s bed time.  I come back into the bedroom.  It appears Bofinks decided to crash early this evening.  Somehow she’s slipped under a blanket and needs an entire bed for all 8 pounds of her. I try to lay in the area above her head, all 10 inches of it but I’m bigger than that.  Bofinks doesn’t care.  I try to push her over, but she glares at me.  Finally she rumbles a bit, rolls her eyes, and gives me another few inches that she thinks is acceptable to sleep in.
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Are you comfortable Baby Bofinks? I hope so. She’s all tucked in, goodnight girl.
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