About a year ago, my sister adopted a kitten who was too little for the animal shelter to take in and named him Foster as he started off just being a foster kitty. She bottle fed him multiple times a day and took the utmost care of this cute yellow manx kitten. Every other bottle fed animal I've ever run into has been the sweetest most loving animal, but not Foster. He's EVIL!!! I've never seen a cat like him. Most animals love me, and those who don't just avoid me. Not Foster....he mauls me every chance he gets.
The first time I was introduced to Foster, he followed me into the bathroom....a bit nerve racking having a cat stare you down while you do your business, but that wasn't the problem. What happened next was....I wet my hands, got them soapy and then that cat jumped up on the counter between me and the sink and every time I would try to stick my hands under the water to get them rinsed he would hiss and bite me...hard. As soon as I jumped back, he'd start purring and arching his back in that way cats do when they want petted so I'd try again. This process went on until my sister finally came to see what all the screaming was about and grabbed Foster so I could get the soap off my hands. I later walked by him and he leapt up, attached himself to my leg, and proceeded to bite and claw at me until I pried his possessed little body off. Needless to say he was locked in my sister's bedroom the remainder of my stay.
I've tried several more times to make friends with this tailless demon, but to no avail. Yesterday was a prime example of our love/hate (mostly hate) relationship. Kelli grabbed Foster when I walked in so he wouldn't get the baby. As she walked by, he hissed and took a swipe. Then, he came to the front door, looked in the glass and started hissing at me. Keep in mind I've done nothing to deserve this; I would understand his attacks it I'd tried bathing him, brushing tangled knots out, practiced my punting skills, or some other mean thing.
I later had to run out to the car for something; I opened the door, stepped out far enough I couldn't get back in quickly, and out of nowhere, Foster howls, launches himself in the air, and latches onto my sandal clad foot. I shrieked, dashed gimpy off her porch, and shook him off, Kelli was laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath, and I'm sure the neighbors were considering calling the cops. I seriously need to come decked out in riot gear to face Foster.
I do want to add that I'm not the only person Foster hates. He recently treed one of her friends on her bed when she went in to change clothes. He makes her very persistent-to-be-friends landlord's hands look like hamburger.
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