The Cat of the House of Pornokitsch isn't so smart, but he's got a vicious cunning that's served him well through the years. When combined with his unfaltering gluttony, he becomes a pretty ferocious creature.
His most horrifying trick (apparently he learned it about five years ago, when Anne was in law school and a really sound sleeper) is to stick his furry mitts on the bookshelf and start knocking things off. I'm pretty sensitive to the books (that is, I'm paranoid/obsessive), and generally the quiet rustle of a single endangered paperback is enough to get me shooting out of bed and looking for the cat food.
Apparently this night, I took a little more encouragement.