Reading Stegner's "The Spectator Bird", starring an aging literary agent - he's in the living room with a heat lamp shining on his feet and and ankles, when the phone rings and he gets up to answer it. When he comes back, the cat has appropriated the warm spot...

The infrared lamp was shining on the hassock, where I had left it, and right in the middle of the cone of heat, practically smoking, was Catarrh. When I lifted him off it was like taking something out of the oven. "You poor old bugger, " I said. "Here, make yourself at home down here." I put my feet up onto the hassock and folded Catarrh down on the rug close to it.He sat up and eyed the hassock, and I could see in his mind, sluggish as an earthworm in adobe, the idea of jumping up on top of my feet.

You never change things by fighting the existing reality.
To change something, build a new model that makes the old model obsolete.
R. Buckminster Fuller