What do you call a dog who steals your warm couch spot the exact second you stand up? The landlord. Gone ten seconds or ten minutes, bookmark and verbal claim be damned — the moment your butt leaves the cushion, the lease transfers. You were merely keeping it warm for him.

Rent is due in belly rubs, and he accepts no excuses. Try to reclaim it and you'll get The Look — the slow blink, the heavy sigh, 80 pounds of dead weight resettling dead center. Moving him would require a forklift and a court order, and he knows it.

You can have the spot back when he's done. He's never done. Find another seat, peasant — the rent just went up.