Jinx pouts as you scold her, for yet again, tearing up the couch.

She can’t help it! It’s just so uncomfortable. So soft and pillowy, not hard like the streets she’s basically spent her entire life on. At least up ‘til now. So yes, she has to rip it up. She hates it with all her soul.

Does that justify her actions, though? No. Not one bit.

“I’m sorry, okay! I’m sorry.” I huffs, kicking at the carpeted floor feebly; rubbery tail swaying sullenly as you agitation reaches her ears.

She is really sorry.

“I didn’t mean to mess up your furniture, or whatever..”