And refused to move.
And grabbed our arms with both paws in a scary way (although she didn't stick out her claws) when we tried (in vain) to move her.
And shouted noisily.
And done the same thing the following night.
Although this time she did it after I had got out of bed and gone downstairs to let her in because it was lashing rain and like a fool she insisted on going outside in it at about twelve o'clock. And like a fool I left the bedroom door open so as soon as she came in the front door she dashed up the stairs and into our room before I could stop her.
So when she got leaped onto the bed she was all mucky and wet from being out in the rain, and now my lovely Cath Kidston duvet cover is all dirty (well, it's in the washing machine now, but it was all dirty).
Those are just some of the things she's been doing recently. She has also figured out how to open the door from the kitchen into the sitting room (the catch on the lock isn't particularly reliable and it can be pushed open sometimes) and so whenever our backs are turned she runs in and gets up on the couch and covers it with her vile fluff. She is currently glowering at me through the back door with an expression of pure evil on her face. She is, in fact, a stout fiend in feline form. I had been thinking of doing a picture book with her as a central character, but I don't think it's fair to inflict Ju Ju on the infant world, even in illustrated form. After all, what child could look at anything resembling this without having nightmares?