I reckon Marcy in charge now. Hell Far!

I hauled my tail onto the sofa cushions, and what do I find tucked up in the corner? Some prissy porcelain ballerina doll with a puffed-up pink frill, looking like she thinks she owns the roost! You know I don't tolerate no stuck-up attitude in my territory. I marched right over, squared up, and gave that dainty little pillow she was leaning on a mighty shoulder check. Down she tumbled right into the cushion crack! I stood over the rim, propped my fists on my hips, and let her know straight up who runs this living room. Ain't nobody putting on airs around Marcy!