The cat we had when I was a kid used to scratch and bite - my feet were always a target when they poked out from under the duvet.
He was a vicious little bastard actually. Son of a farm cat, he never really allowed himself to be truly domesticated. I once saw him bite and swallow the head off a rabbit, and eat a squirrel's arm. Pretty much every day he'd leave just the bile sack of some rodent on the doormat. Both ears had great big nicks out of them from fighting, and he had various other exciting scars all over. When he was old and it was time to die, he dragged his failing body far into the garden, under a wheelbarrow and said 'fuck it'.
We probably should have called him something less adorable than 'Bertie' really.
The cat we had when I was a kid used to scratch and bite - my feet were always a target when they poked out from under the duvet.
He was a vicious little bastard actually. Son of a farm cat, he never really allowed himself to be truly domesticated. I once saw him bite and swallow the head off a rabbit, and eat a squirrel's arm. Pretty much every day he'd leave just the bile sack of some rodent on the doormat. Both ears had great big nicks out of them from fighting, and he had various other exciting scars all over. When he was old and it was time to die, he dragged his failing body far into the garden, under a wheelbarrow and said 'fuck it'.
We probably should have called him something less adorable than 'Bertie' really.