Soup with bite.

My lower kitchen cabinets are generally a mess, because I have a wee Ginger Beastie that loves to pull out pots, pans and Tupperware. Three zillion toys, books and crayons on the house, and she'd rather empty my cabinets.  Just recently, her favorite items are a restaurant-sized 20 gallon stock pot (with its lid) and a big wooden spoon. generally she'll toss blocks and miscellaneous crap into it, stir it until the din is unbearable and serve everyone in her vicinity (sometimes we're restaurant patrons, and sometimes we're attending her tea party)  "soup."

The other day, the pot was sitting, empty, on the living room floor. Naturally, Bitezilla decided to hop in and see if the pot suited his napping needs.

Biggest. Mistake. Of his life.

He's large enough that you can see eyes and ear tips when he's sitting up, but he is entirely invisible if he curls around himself at the bottom of the pot. Unless the dumb ass decides that his royal plumage (his tail, or "butt-tie," as Ginger Beastie calls it) must be displayed.

Spotting his tail hanging over the edge, she leaped into action, stuffed his tail in and clapped the lid on to the pot. His equanimity was not in the least disturbed...until she started banging and clanging on the pot -- lid and all sides -- with the wooden spoon. All the while shrieking happily, like the Swedish Chef.

Freaked right smooth, he thrashed and flailed until the pot tipped over. He scrambled out of the pot, wide-eyed and staggering.  He was last seen beating feet for the safety of the upstairs. I'm guessing she rang his bell a good one

Wee Ginger Beastie was quite put out that he didn't want to play anymore, and even further upset that there was no cat soup to serve to her tea party.