Now that's a tuff cat.
Our first coon encounter;
we knew the cat was a gonner.
There was a four inch chunk fur missing, along with looking REALLY bad.
She was old, and figured she'd had a good life. I got the 1911, put it to the back of her head. Pulled the trigger.
I couldn't believe it when she took off running. She came back three days later. The #68 went through the center of her neck. Didn't do any damage. I got pictures. Unbelievable.
Well I wasn't going to take a cat that had two bullet holes and half of its side missing to the vet, so I got the shotgun, shovel and dug a hole.
When I took her out of the carrier, she started rubbing up against my leg, and purring. $@&%$!# I couldn't do the dirty deed.
She went to the vet and lived another few years.
The second, was a tabby barn cat.
Her paw got chewed up so bad it was folding under, and was walking on the top of it. The vet put a plastic cast on it.
She stayed inside while it healed. No one thought it would work.
That dang cat ended up sleeping on my bed, and being good friends.
She was pretty mean. Didn't like to much affection. But would sleep in your lap if you didn't pet her.
Worked out good cuz I don't get along with cats to much.
I spent four days, three nights in the hospital from a cat bite. (My sisters)
Got bit in the wrist. I had ink marks up to my elbow, marking the poison. Nothing to fool with.
Mark