We used to call Isis "the snuggle vortex." You could be minding your business, going about your day, and she would curl up on the bed and give you the soulful eye until you laid down JUST FOR A MOMENT to pet her. Then you'd wake up three hours later with drool running down the pillow creases in your face all "WTF?"
That, however, was before we had a cat. Skeeter may be tiny, but his snuggle vortex field is five times the size of the dog's, and features a tractor beam that reaches out and draws Hotter in. I'll come home from work and find that Hotter hasn't even turned the lights on for the beasts of Squatter Workshop, just sent the boys off to school and curled up around the cat AND THAT WAS HIS DAY. I recently asked him to do something and then saw him reaching down to pet Skeeter, who was curled on the bed in a tiny kitty-ball. "NO! Do NOT pet that cat! That's how he draws you in, you're all 'awww look how wee he is, no way could he vortex me' and then BAM!" Hotter shook his head briefly, like he was snapping out of a spell. "Damn, that was a close one." Yep, I said. "It'll come in handy if you ever need another kidney. We'll just go up to appropriately-sized people and be like 'how ya feeling? Got mono? Good. Pee nice and clear? Here, HOLD THIS CAT!' and they'll wake up in a motel bathtub full of ice like WHAT JUST HAPPENED."
It would totally work.