Last year I had a cat who, whenever she was offended, used to go to my
bedroom and throw various articles out of the window. I was constantly
finding purses, powder-puffs, artificial teeth, safety-pins, hymn-books,
etc., on the lawn, and never suspected the culprit until she was caught
in the act.
She also had a habit of sitting on the top of the front door and
dropping golf-balls on the head of the postman, whom, either for his red
hair or his Radical opinions, she disliked bitterly.
She would eat and drink anything, including ice-pudding and green
Chartreuse, and was always peculiarly cheerful on Thursday evenings,
when _The Scottish Meekly_ reaches our house.