Soup loves my husband more than me. I am okay with that. She likes me fine, but she LOVES her dad. He can move her around of the sofa and she doesn’t care. He can pick her up and she is fine with it. Sometimes, if I even sit of the opposite side of the sofa it, apparently, jostles her too much and she has to leave in an indignant huff.
However, we do have one ritual, that is just ours. She is my Soup-spoon. In the morning, after she comes back upstairs from her morning jaunt outside with her dad at 5 a.m. She lets out a little a little growl to get my attention. Even though she is well aware she is able to jump up onto the bed anywhere. However, she has to wait until I turn on my side to face her, lift the cover and then she curls up and spoons with me until my alarm goes off in a couple of hours later. It is sweet.