The other night I woke up to a strange noise coming from the corner of my room. I turned on the light and sat up to find Sophie managed to open the top drawer of my dresser and was vigorously digging through my bras with the apparent goal of getting everything out of the drawer and onto the floor.
I yelled her name to which she suspended her rooting long enough to twitch her ears (her way of saying "stop annoying me").
Determined not to lose the battle and get out of bed to stop this nonsense, I yelled her name again.
*Ear twitch.... more digging.... fling two more undergarments onto the floor.*
I finally got out of bed, grabbed her from the top of my dresser and put her on the bed, despite her loud protests and the two bras she had her claws in, which she carried with her.
The next day, I told my Dad this story. Given his new relationship with Sophie (from the month long cat sitting), his response was adequate.
"I'm surprised you didn't find her trying them on, smoking a cigarette, putting on lipstick, and looking at you when you told her to stop, saying in a raspy voice 'turn the lights off, bitch.'"