The Great Bed Heist

There’s something magical about sharing your home with two Sphynx cats. Crinkle and Wrinkle, my adorable sealpoint sphynx overlords—I mean, companions—are living proof that life is never dull. Between their mischievous antics and their uncanny ability to charm their way out of trouble, these little naked gremlins have completely redefined my idea of “personal space.”

Take bedtime, for instance. What used to be my cozy oasis, a sanctuary where I could stretch out and enjoy sweet, undisturbed dreams, has turned into a nightly battlefield. And let me tell you, these cats are strategic masterminds.

It starts innocently enough. They curl up at the foot of the bed, two snug little dumplings who couldn’t possibly cause any harm. But as the night wears on, their slow, calculated invasion begins. A paw here, a gentle nudge there, and somehow, I’m clinging to the very edge of the mattress like a mountaineer scaling the cliffs of doom.

Wrinkle, the bolder of the two, stakes her claim first. She stretches her wrinkly little body, like a living hot water bottle, until she’s claimed half the bed. Crinkle, not to be outdone, uses the “divide and conquer” approach, wedging herself into the most inconvenient positions possible. Before I know it, I’m locked in a half-conscious wrestling match with two tiny, hairless dictators.

And let’s not forget the “death stare.” If I so much as dare to move them, I’m met with an icy glare that says, “How dare you disturb our royal slumber?” Their blue eyes bore into my soul, and suddenly, I’m the bad guy.

But I don’t give up. Instead, I contort myself into the most uncomfortable position imaginable, doing my best to avoid turning my knees into pretzels. Then, I catch a glimpse of them—Crinkle and Wrinkle—curled up together, their naked little bodies radiating warmth, purring softly like tiny engines of contentment. My irritation melts faster than butter on a hot day.

These two are masters of finding warmth and comfort. Whether it’s burrowing under the blankets I’ve just straightened, sneaking into the sweater I left on the couch, or curling up in the exact spot I’ve just vacated, Crinkle and Wrinkle are like little heat-seeking missiles. Anything I’ve recently made warm—be it my lap, a sunlit cushion, or even my freshly brewed cup of tea—is immediately claimed as their own.

The sheer level of relaxation they exude is something we humans could only dream of mastering. Watching them so utterly at peace, I can’t help but feel a little envious—and completely charmed.

“How can two creatures so small take up so much space in my bed and my heart?” I mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

And that’s the thing about Crinkle and Wrinkle. They don’t just steal your bed or your personal space—they steal your heart. Even as I twist and turn in discomfort, I can’t imagine life without them. They’re bed-hogging, blanket-stealing, heart-melting bundles of joy, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

So, if you’re considering getting a Sphynx cat—or two—just know they’ll take over your home, your heart and your bed. Mostly your bed.