In message , Cub Driver
writes
Sometimes you remind me of the airport cat (whose name is Crash, by
the way). Crash is a grouchy old orange male who looks out at us with
slitted eyes. Sometimes he lets us pat him, more often not.

One day a stranger came in and planted his hands on the counter to
talk to George, the manager. Crash was sitting on the counter. He
began to lick the stranger's hand. Three, four, five licks. Then
WHOMP! He bit it.

That's not affection.

"First you baste the meat... then you eat it".


(Our cat does the exact same thing. Eagerly wants to be stroked and
loved, affectionately catches a hand and grooms it... then furiously
bites and claws it, both in that kitten-play mode that only breaks skin
by accident. She's nine years old but still likes her games)

--
When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite.
W S Churchill

Paul J. Adam