We had a cat when I was kid. She was born feral and we adopted her. She never quite lost her nasty-bitch feral quality, yet we had her for 19 yrs.
She was a cow. Everynight she used to wander round the living room, eyeing up every member of the family till she claimed her “victim”. She would cosy up on your knee and purr like the sweetest thing in the world…untill you had to go pee, or make coffee or even wriggle a wee bit then the savage beastie in her reared its ugly head. There was NO way you were allowed to go any where if she had decided you were bed for the night, well not if you still wanted fingers.
She had the decidely iffy habit of eating grass and getting a single blade stuck up her nose which would cause days of exagerated sniffing and sneezing. The vet finally showed us how to use tweezers to extract the grass and the next time she had to go to the vet a “DANGEROUS ANIMAL” notice flashed up on his screen.
Whiskers and the car were mortal enemies. After several years of not going near one then having to move house Dad went and got a “kitty carrier” from the vet. A lovely cardboard arrangement. We inserted Whiskers in the box. Ten minutes later there was no box left. We tried several other box arrangements that Whiskers made short work of.
Finally Dad shoved her in a beer crate and nailed a plank on top. Yes I think pillow cases sound very kind.