This all came to a head when we spent what struck me as an eye-watering sum on the biggest sofa we’ve ever owned. It’s going to be a factor if we ever move: we’ll have to measure any house to establish its capacity to accommodate our sofa.
In the meantime what the sofa itself accommodates is Misty. He approves. It meets his exacting criteria for comfort and size. He has made it clear that this is his sofa to lie on, just as it is poor Janka’s to be ordered off.
|Misty will share the sofa as long as it doesn't interfere with his plans|
I have no idea how she could voice such a clearly irrational complaint. If a piece of furniture turns up in Misty's house it’s clearly for his enjoyment.
Not that he’s unprepared to share it. All we have to do is fit around him. He’s prepared to be tolerant, certainly, but not if it means giving up his obvious prerogatives.
It’s as though all those years of fitting our lives around our kids’ convenience had taught us nothing. We’re suckers for punishment, for being pushed around by others under our own roof.
Before it was the pet substitutes; today it’s once more the pets.
|Janka, not allowed on the new sofa, makes do with the old one|