When we first got her we thought she was an angel, so sweet, so shy, so demure.
She's a demon.
She wants whatever it might be that the other cats have. If Tux and Max are eating, she thinks she's missing something and bullies her way in. If you open a door or window, she thinks she should be let out into the yard--she isn't. If it's something new it belongs to her.
This afghan is on the back of the couch; my mother made it for me when I was a wee teen, sometime back in the early 30s, I think. Tuxedo loved to snuggle into it and now Consuelo has taken it over and tried to turn it into some kind of Kitten Whore House.
Or, as Carlos might say, Princessa Puta.