Descriptive essay: cat

     Sammy's head whips around to see me standing in the archway to the kitchen, hands on my hips. I've just caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing and she knows it, ears pulled back in a fighting stance and eyes blown wide, staring into my narrowed ones. The warm sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window pours over Sammy's fur, making it gleam with every inhale and exhale and I can see the mischief dancing in her eyes. I can tell she's not the least bit guilty for climbing on to table and swiping the fish from a plate that I had left unattended for mere minutes. The plastic wrap that had clung tightly to the sides of the dish are now splayed in different directions with bits of fish scattered over the top. Our staring contest continues and it's getting increasingly difficult not to laugh aloud, especially when Sammy slowly licks her lips, pink tongue darting out from one corner of her mouth to glide smoothly to the other end and disappear inside once again. Her shoulders have eased up a bit and her tail swings once, testing to see if I'm mad. She knows I'm not when I finally let out a laugh but jumps down from the table nonetheless once I take a step toward here and rapidly darts behind me into the living room. Once I crouch down in front of the couch to lecture her , she rolls onto her back, exposing her soft stomach to me. Sammy curls her head to the side and lets our a mewl, urging me to pet her. Cradling her head with both of my hands, I start massaging the soft tissue of the insides of her ears with my thumbs, at which she lets out a loud purr, like a car engine turning on but sounding more like a pigeon when the purrs die down as she gets sleepy. Sammy nuzzles her head into my palm right before she succumbs to sleep. Sneaky cat, she knows she won't get punished.