People write coziness by describing how cats purr on their laps.
They wax poetic about how they read by dim light, stroking gentle the sleeping cat.
For me, it is not so.
My beloved white cat who loves me the most refuses to conform.
For instance, she will only sit upon my knee cap.
If I roll over, she switches sides. If I move her, she moves back.
Where I go, she is there. On my knee cap.
I am perplexed.