Before I got married, my cat, Mugsie, shared my apartment. After I brought him home from an animal shelter, he decided that I was his private property. When he saw me going through the rituals of preparing to go out for the evening, Mugsie communicated his displeasure.

He’d lodge himself under my dressing table and stretch his paw in between the gaps in the curtain tacked around the edge of the table. Then he’d swipe at my hand while I tried to apply my makeup. If that didn’t distract me enough, Mugsie would leap to the light switch and flip it off.

After I became familiar with his routine, I learned to continue while Mugsie launched the next phase of attack. He’d plop his rear end on the top button of the radio to turn it on and push the knob, making it play louder. All of these shenanigans usually didn’t stop me, so he’d start nibbling on the plants. That worked.

I’d chase him out of the room, much to his obvious delight. Mugsie was an angel animal who found ways to make sure I got his messages. Once I unwrapped a birthday present on my coffee table, but the shiny pink bow had fallen to the floor. The next day when I arrived home from work, Mugsie had carefully placed the bow on top of his leavings in the kitty litter box.

A present? I wondered if he could have deliberately placed this bow in such a strategic position where I would easily see it. I picked up the bow and put it back on the floor by the coffee table. — Beliefnet.com