Strange Bedfellows

What happens in my bedroom after the lights go out? On most nights a lot of purring, scratching, and howling—not to mention heavy petting.
PAWS TO CONSIDER: The Kinkster's bed is full each night.
Illustration by Keith Graves

I sleep in an old ranch house in the Hill Country with a shotgun under my bed and a cat on my head. The cat’s name is Lady Argyle, and she used to belong to my mother before Mom stepped on a rainbow. It is not a pleasant situation when you have a cat who insists on sleeping on your head like a hat and putting her whiskers in your left nostril all night long at intervals of about 27 minutes. I haven’t actually timed this behavioral pattern, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the intervals were precisely 27 minutes. This precarious set of affairs could have easily resulted in a hostage situation or a suicide pact, but as of this

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