Twas (almost) the night before Christmas
when all through the house,
not a creature was stirring
not even a mouse.
Both, of course, have their own comfortable beds, but they prefer to sleep where we'd rather they didn't.
We put chairs on the sofas at night, but they find a way around that. Bok loves to sleep on my old threadbare wing-back chair, and Fred sleeps nearby to keep an eye on him.
There's really no point trying to get them to do otherwise; anyway, it's their house as much as it is ours, and I suppose they should sleep wherever they feel the most comfortable.
So, this is the scene chez Cro. There's a dying fire in the hearth, there are feint sounds of animals sleeping, we've just had some delightful friends around for dinner, and Santa's on his way.