Back in the days of Watergate, I was about 15, and we had a female Siamese cat who LOVED to sit in Dad's rocking chair in front of the fireplace. If he wasn't in the chair, she was. And all too often, Dad was having to evict her so he could sit in it.
One particular day, I was sitting on the hearth beside the fireplace, reading the evening newspaper. Dad came in, and had to evict the cat from the chair to sit down. The cat was looking daggers at him for it, when I read something that got my attention. I put the paper down on the floor in front of the cat, pointed to a line, and said, "Here, Fufu, read that!" She looked where I had pointed, then looked back at me, and gave out the most plaintive "Mrrow?!?" ever heard, and gave me a look that said, "How could you do that to me?"
Mom asked me what the paper said, and I told her it was a humorous columnist saying that at his house, "executive privilege" meant that the dad had the right to throw the cat out of the easy chair.
I don't think the cat ever forgave me! 
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