As I sit here typing this, Simba is sprawled out on the floor asleep. I would not say he rules the house, but just wants to be included, in everything. I don't let him in certain places, like my son's room and the laundry room. He is not allowed on the counter or the kitchen table. He gets fed when I want to, and I throw my slipper at him when he tries to wake me up. and yet, he still loves me.
