If there were an Olympic sport for sleeping, Ellie would bring home the gold, the silver, and probably take a nap on the podium before the bronze was even awarded. Our bed, specifically, has been declared her official headquarters. We like to think it’s “our” bed, but let’s be honest—we’re just the overnight guests who pay the mortgage.
The moment the blankets are smoothed out, Ellie appears as if summoned by some ancient feline ritual. Within seconds, she’s stretched diagonally across the mattress, claiming maximum square footage with minimum effort. Morning? Sleeping. Afternoon? Power nap. Evening? Pre-bed nap before her main bedtime nap. If comfort were a career, Ellie would be CEO, president, and employee of the month—curled up in the exact center of the pillows, of course.
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