The bravest thing my cat Hazelnut ever did was on the first day I found her, a sick, motherless feral kitten, five weeks old.
She was hiding under the bushes in front of a bank when I found her. I went to pick her up, and she screamed in rage and attacked me. She wasn’t scared. She was angry.
Now put yourself in her shoes. Suddenly a huge creature, and I mean huge, all five feet two inches, back then weighing maybe a hundred and eight pounds. To a kitten, that’s probably the equivalent of a creature over a hundred times your weigh and towering over you like a building. Suddenly such a creature reaches out a huge hand and grabs you, trying to kidnap you.
But Hazelnut seemed to be saying, “How dare you pick me up without my permission? Who do you think you are, bothering me?”
Amiga, Princessa, and Chocolate Paws had leapt through the window into my first floor, ground-level apartment. I consider it a very courageous thing to do. Imagine walking into an unknown territory that houses an unknown creature much larger than you, without knowing what to expect. Would you walk into a bear’s territory? That’s the bravest thing my three cats have done in their effort to get food.
My cat Milky had run away and had stayed on the streets for fend for herself for two and a half months. That’s the bravest thing my Persian cat Milky had done, and she wasn’t a brave cat at all.
My Amiga had attacked a feral cat that had wandered in from outside. The cats’ feeders call him John The Bully. (John and the word bully rhyme in Hebrew). My Amiga had flown at him with the feline battle cry. You know these furious screams that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on edge? I’ve seen quite a few cats fights, because there are so many feral cats around here, but I’d never seen cats fight so frantically before.
I had clamped my hands next to the fighting cats, but they didn’t care. I ran toward John The Bully to scare him away, and he hissed at me and started toward me, clawing at the air. (The cats feeders don’t call him John The Bully for nothing). I filled a glass with water and threw it at him, and he leapt out the window and ran away. I consider it not the bravest thing my cat Amiga had done, but one of the bravest. She had fought like a tiger.
What’s the bravest thing your pet had ever done? Cat or do or rabbit or parrot. It doesn’t matter. I love pet stories.
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