I walk into the bathroom to put away towels I had just finished washing.  Kako is lying on the floor next to the bathtub watching me intently as she stretches out and hooks her claws into the shower curtain.

I finish putting the towels up and turn to look at her.  As if that were an invitation to push my buttons, she curls her claws through the shower curtain and begins pulling at it as if it might be a new scratching surface.

As this is not acceptable behavior in our home, I tell her “no” and kneel down beside her to help her get unhooked.

She leans back and watches me as I disconnect her claws from the shower curtain.  There’s a twinkle in her eye that tells me the game is afoot.  I’m familiar with this process and know precisely what to expect.

As I detach her from the curtain, she pulls her paws back from the bathtub and looks at me innocently.  “Look, Daddy.  Aren’t I cute and lovable and adorable and sweet and…” But I know that look.  It says all those things, yes, but, more importantly and with greater clarity, it also says, “You’re not the boss of me.”

The moment I stand up, she stretches out again and promptly latches onto the shower curtain in exactly the same manner I thought we had just discussed.

I once again tell her “no” and reach down and remove her claws from the curtain.  This time I wasn’t able to stand up completely before her claws were once again knuckle deep through the curtain.

Knowing this was a direct challenge to my authority, I gave her a light smack on her ass and told her — with a slightly more authoritative voice — “no.”

Before I could get safely out of striking distance, she turns and hits me back with just enough force and claws to get my attention.

Her eyes narrow with a brutally predator-like disdain for the challenger apparent.  Her ears flatten back in preparation for what she knows will be fierce battle.

I’m already beginning to laugh at this point, but I’m still trying to be “in charge” — so I smack her again with only a hair more force than I did the first time and accompany it with another “no” — this time with more authority in my voice (well, at least I thought it was).

She promptly lashes out and hits me back — only harder than before and with more claw this time.  I see barely perceptible racing stripes across the back of my hand.

She moves quickly, too quickly for me to get my hit in safely before she reciprocates.

This goes on for three or four hits before I’m laughing so hard I nearly piss my pants.  This is how Kako’s discipline goes — poorly, at least from my perspective.

She’s really mad at me by now because I obviously feel as though I am the victor in this territorial challenge.  As far as I was concerned, I should have been.

But there’s no way for me to discipline her when I can’t stop laughing uproariously, so I turn to walk away.  She flinches, perhaps wondering if my laughing is an attempt to distract her so I can get in another strike.

Her arms stretch out, her claws splay slightly, her ears move upward just enough to indicate her guard is coming down, her eyes open more widely so she can see precisely what I’m up to.

Nothing — I leave the room still chuckling to myself but knowing the moment for discipline, for taking her to task for whatever started the whole scene, is over.  It’s gone.  It’s passed and is never coming back.

Damn.  She won again.