That's Not Your Bed!

Many nights Rowdy has been sneaking down the hall into the den and sleeping on the couch.  I can never hardly catch him there, because he usually hears me coming down the hall and promptly gets up and peers around the corner to see me.  The only reason I know he is down there is because I hear his toe nails clicking on the laminate floor and if I go down there I can feel the warm spot on the couch where he has been laying.  Even though it is not alright for him to blatantly be on the couch, it's really not that bad because it's an old couch that's probably ready to be thrown out to the curb.  But since I can't afford a new one, I still use it.

Well, this morning while in bed, I heard him come back from the den, fumble around and go back down to the den.  When the heater kicked on, for which the noise might provide me cover, I decided to see if I could catch him in the act.  With great stealth I slowly made my way down to the den and peered around the corner at him.  He was laying close to the doorway, sitting with his back toward me with his head down nibbling on himself.  I quietly reached down and with a clawed hand, goosed him and growled like a mad dog at him.  He spun around like lightening and gave me an ut-oh look and then jumped off the couch and half circled me with his tail between his legs.  Then he stopped and looked up at me and I said, "Get down there!" and he tore off running down the hall and got back in his bed.  I wasn't really mad at him and was actually laughing on the inside at the way he got caught in trouble and how he ran away from it, without really being punished.