My most memorable moment is, of course, not quite as benign as most people's. But, most people don't own a cat like Pirate.
I've said that Pirate doesn't like people. In fact, I've said this many, many times, usually as a dire warning to friends who are coming over to visit. Some of these friends are cat people. Some of them are convinced that I don't know what I'm talking about and that their innate animal magnetism will have Pirate purring in their laps in no time.
To these people, I have learned to smile, shrug, and tell them that I own a bottle of Bactine.
A few years ago, my friends Jacob and Holly stayed with me for a week. They were tremendously amused that I was now a cat owner. As "cat people", they were sure that my dire warnings about Pirate (the fifteen pound white terror) were nothing more than the ravings of an amateur cat owner. Jacob, in fact, was convinced that he could win over Pirate.
Give him credit. He tried for longer than most. For the entire week, every time he saw Pirate, his voice would shoot up three octaves as he made "coo-coo" baby-talk to the hissing, snarling cat.
At the end of the week, Jacob came back from the bathroom to find that Pirate had claimed his chair in his absence. And was hissing at him. Well, no more Mr. Nice Guy. No More Dr. Doolittle, Friend of Animals. Jacob had had enough. It was time to show the cat who was in charge.
Rearing up to his full 6'1", Jacob spread his arms, hooked his fingers into claws, made a fearsome face, and with a terrible roar, swooped down on Pirate!
Pirate sat calmly until Jacob's face was at its closest approach. Then, he reached up with one claw, and -- snick! -- right across the nose!
Score: Pirate 1, Jacob 0.
Jacob never tried that again. He appreciated the Bactine.