The other day, I wanted to pet Sugar, so I picked her up off her chair, brought her onto the bed with me, and put her on my chest to pet her lovingly. This, of course, was a viciously infelicitous infraction per Sugar's will, and she refused to even look me in the eye as I adoringly stroked her velvety gray coat, making ever decorous attempt to escape my loving hold.
The moment I relaxed my hands, she made this amazing Superwoman leap not just onto the bed, but up, off my chest, in mid-air for a millisecond, and down onto the ground before sashaying into the unreachable corner behind the TV, her collar jiggling furiously as she shook herself free of my man cooties and began the rigorous process of cleaning her coat, pausing only to periodically proffer maligning glares my way.
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