Yesterday, my adorable little tabby Layla (think Nermal) decided that she was unhappy about something or other. Since she lacks the opposable thumbs necessary to write us a nasty letter informing us of what we did, she decided to go over to her litter box, stand directly in front of it and take the world's biggest, stinkiest poop. After that she politely scampered away under my bed out of reach.
Maybe I should try to sneak her into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. I think our President might benefit from a few well-placed angry kitties in his life right now.