He's been trying to kill me for years.
Stevie Ray sneaks up on me at night when I walk through the house, checking the doors and turning out the lights before it's time to go to bed.
Slowly he gazes. I walk past. He leaps and wraps all four paws around my leg, reaches over and takes a bite out of my shin.
It's really a love-hate relationship, but seriously I don't know the breakdown. It's a toss-up day-to-day.
He ran away once for a week. I was worried because he doesn't have front claws. He survived, though. He's too mean to let anyone hurt him.
Since he came back, he's been a bit more loving. Still psychotic, but more loving.
If it wasn't for the dog, he'd have taken me out long ago, that kitty-kitty.
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