A stout spank to her furry blue globe sends her skittering through the door. You follow her inside just as she whirls around furiously—her tail tucked between her legs. If looks could kill you might regret your actions. But they couldn’t, and her indignant rage was cute. Liking her when she was mad was probably right up there with liking cigarettes when it came to your health, “Dang Dash that had some jiggle, I think you need to lay off the honey bars.”