I quite like cats - not enough to own one at present (or more accurately, have one own me), but I like them nonetheless. If I am walking down the street and see one in a front yard, I'll generally stop and try to tempt it over for a pat and a tummy rub (that's me rubbing its tummy).
That said, they don't always like me. One tried to kill me the other day, or at the very least, leave me covered in gravel rash.
I was toodling home on the peddly when this ginger streak of lightning shot out of somewhere and tore across in front of me and then under a parked car. It was really moving - I wish I could sprint like that. But if I hadn't braked hard, I would have hit the cat full amidships, and it would have been a bad outcome for both of us. Possibly a broken back for the cat, and lots of lost skin for me. The thing that struck me afterwards is how nasty it would have been to break the cat's neck if it was too far gone. Bugger taking it to a vet (especially if I am banged up myself) - just snap its neck and be done with it. Nothing worse than leaving it to die slowly in agony.
Trouble is, cats necks are really hard to break. They're like elastic. And unfortunately, we were nowhere near the Bay, so I couldn't put it in a sack with a brick and drown it. I also didn't have a sack or a brick.
So, good thing the cat was quick on its feet, and I was quick on the brakes. There were two pedestrians nearby, and they called out "that's one life down!" as I sailed past, slightly shaken. I'm not sure if they were referring to me or the speedy pussy.
Whatever it was you were after, Mr Cat, I hope it was worth it.