My dog Riley is under the impression that my bed is actually her bed. When I'm not in it, this isn't the biggest of deals, but since she's also under the impression that I should wake up and feed her at unreasonably early hours, it's starting to become a big deal.
I'm a total sucker for animals. If I were a GURPS character, it would easily be a 10 point disadvantage. So when Riley (who is a svelte 43 pounds compared to Ferris' 85) shimmies up on my bed, stretches out next to me and puts her little face on my chest, (if I'm on my back) or rests her head on top of mine (if I'm on my side) and thumps her tail against the bed in happy anticipation if I make even the slightest movement which indicates that I'm awake, I can't help but reinforce her behavior with lots of scratching-behind-the-ears and snuggling. It's nice to be loved, you know?
Consequently, I have nobody to blame but myself that I feel like hell at the moment. After staying up until 2 playing hold'em on PokerStars last night, I was roused from my slumber by my little white dog at 7 (on my day to sleep in, no less!) because, well, apparently it's nice to be loved.
What was I supposed to do? Tell her to get down and go back to sleep? She was so freakin' cute, with her little gold eyes all big and happy in my face and her pointy ears perked up right on top of her head; I failed my save vs. adorable dog roll miserably, even taking into account my exhaustion bonus.
This, my friends, is why I am drinking a +3 cup of coffee.