Many years ago I had a cat called Millie. She was the tiniest little thing, but she more than made up for it in attitude. My house looked out onto a park, and she had chased so many dogs as they came past, that a warning notice was put up about her on a nearby tree. She also had a reputation for wandering into other people's houses, eating food, and occasionally curling up for a sleep in some poor unsuspecting dogs bed. The local pub eventually gave up on turfing her out, and she had a chair that became reserved for Millie.
But of all the shit she caused me, the worst thing was that she developed an obsession with getting into my neighbours house. He was highly allergic to cats, and I swear the little shit knew that, and went there on purpose. And the thing is, he was so God damn nice about it. This is the UK, so we're terribly polite about these things anyway, but he would come over, eyes red and streaming, snot pouring from his nose, and his skin the colour of a ripe tomato, and just say:
"Sorry to trouble you, but would you mind getting your cat? Obviously if you're busy don't worry, it's not urgent. Just, you know, when you've got a minute"
Meanwhile his voice was getting raspier by the word as his throat began to swell up. I baked that poor man so many "I'm so sorry Millie nearly killed you!" cakes over the years.
Anyway, here's the cute/homicidal little shit...
http://i.imgur.com/EMVeqZK.jpg