A Two-Headed Tug-of-War

I found myself locked in a ferocious tug-of-war against my very own flank over a fallen cloth napkin. 'Observe the refined hemstitch, Dog, an exquisite linen blend!' my cat head declared, attempting to smooth the fabric flat against the floorboards with dignified care. 'Tug! Shake it! It's a monster flag!' my dog mouth barked back, clamping down on the opposite corner and hauling backward with wild glee. We strained in opposite directions, spinning our shared midriff in a tight circle until claws found traction. With a sudden snap of tension, the napkin folded cleanly in half between our jaws. A surprisingly neat compromise—part folded laundry, part captured quarry.