"Does Harvey sleep on the chair anymore since I replaced his cloud with monkey fur?" I asked Gregg.
The preceding sentence sounds cryptic, but the meaning is clear enough if you know that the recliner in the family room had been appropriated by Harvey ever since I had to semi-destuff one of Ray's beds just before a trip south to fit it into the car. I had left the de-stuffing in a heap on the chair, and while Ray and I were out of town, Harvey took to sleeping on the pile. The blissful frenzy of kneading that occurred before every nap convinced us to leave the pile of stuffing on the chair and refer to it as "Harvey's Cloud." Recently, however, I bought some furry fabric and made a cushion, stuffed it with Harvey's Cloud, and put it back on the recliner. I hadn't noticed if Harvey had resumed sleeping on it since the replacement.
"He uses it," replied Gregg, "I saw him on it just recently."
"Good," I said, "I would have hated to take away his favorite sleeping place."
An hour or so later, Ray, having of course understood every single word I had said, and needing to check out the comfort level of monkey fur, was sleeping on Harvey's new cushion.