Attack Cat

Some years ago a friend of mine had a cat. My friend was an easy going, chilled out sort of chap who wanted a nice quiet life with no surprises, and looked forward to pleasant evenings by the telly with a couple of beers and slippers on.
The cat however, was a raving psycho.
My friend's quiet idyll was constantly interupted by surprise attacks at any or all hours of day or night. Getting up to go to the toilet was fraught with terror as far too many times the cat had caught him unawares and launched itself at his head from the top of the wardrobe or the curtains in the hallway.
Meal times were also a battle, as if for a second my friend took his eyes of his dinner, the cat would be there in the blink of an eye, and the food would mysteriously vanish.
The cat also took delight in bringing it's human presents; normally in the form of half-dead rodents which would lovingly be placed under the duvet, inside shoes, and on one occasion in the toilet bowl*
Despite the exhuberant antics of the cat, my friend loved it explaining that at least it put a little excitement into his life, and when the cat finally ran itself out of it's own steam (from running round and round the front room, bouncing off the furniture and walls) it would settle down on his lap and deign to be cuddled and stroked.
Visitors were also fair game for tricks in the cat's mind and it loved nothing better than to hang on the tops of doors waiting for some unsuspecting guest to walk into the room so that it could drop onto their heads**, and if there was a party going on, the cat would perch itself as near to the canapes as it could and when someone reached for a snack, it would run up their arm, steal the food, then bounce off the poor sod before you could say 'What the...?'
One time my friend made the mistake of buying some catnip for the already demented animal. It was the only time he did so, as the effect on the kitty was to make it bounce around the bedroom for an entire night, only pausing to catch it's breath by dropping onto the human's face just as he was dropping off to spleep. Catching the thing was not an option unless you had a strong pair of gauntlets, and full body armour to hand. My friend tried it once and regretted trying so for as long as it took for the scars to heal.
But, as I said, my friend loved his cat, and wouldn't have dreamed of leaving it. Sedating it with something possibly, but would never would give it up.
One Saturday night my friend went to a party. He gave the cat it's dinner, then left the animal with the run of the place for the evening.
He came back in the early hours of the morning to be met in the hallway by his neighbours who were concerened by some very strange noises coming from inside his flat.
They listened at the door and he could hear a sort of 'Mrrrrowmmrrrowmmrrowm' followed by muffled whimpering.
With the neighbours on standby with the phone, he slowly opened the front door.
The hallway was a mess - coats and shoes lay in disarray all around.
He went into the front room to be greated by more chaos; furniture had been knocked over and papers and so were strewn over the mess.
Of the cat however, there was no sign.
He listened again, and heard the whimpering, which was coming from the bedroom.
Grabbing a torch, he slowly went in.
There, on the bed amongst even more chaos, was the cat looking extremely pleased with itself.
In the bedroom it was clear that the whimpering was coming from the wardrobe, so signalling to the neighbours to call the police, my friend (who btw was a large chap with strength to match) opened the door.
The cat went in like a shot, and the whimpering turned to screams along the lines of "Ohgodsno!getitoffmegetitoffme, fortheloveofallknowngods, ferfuckssakeGETITOFFME,HELP!"
The cat continued to harangue the hapless would-be burglar until the cops turned up.
When questioned, it transpired that the burglar had jimmied open a kitchen window, and was most of the way into the flat when the cat landed on his head, and hung on using it's claws on his face.
He'd managed to get the cat off, but kitty gave chase which explained the furniture and mess. The burglar dropped his torch during the first attack, and the cat - knowing the layout well and having far better eyesight, had tormented the bloke for about 20 minutes before the chap found the wardrobe to hide in.
After a while he thought the cat had gone, so he tried opening the door, only to have puss attack again, this time lacerating his genitals with it's claws, which needed stitches.
As the rozzers took the burglar away, my friend tried to stop laughing and prepared an extra special treat for the maniacal moggy.
Attack Cats.
No home should be without one.


*I'll leave it to you to imagine the shock my friend suffered when he sat down to a 'quiet moment', only to have a bloody rat attach itself to a delicate part of his anatomy.
**The people in the next flat knew when my friend had guests from the screams.