Only if my attacker looked like toes under a sheet. Other than that, I would be on my own.
…did Josh happen to father some kittens, by any chance? Because I have a friend whose cat, Phi, is pretty much exactly like that. She’s brilliant, vicious, fat, and dangerous… and she’ll only barely tolerate anyone other than her owner. She’ll let me pet her sometimes, but I can still see the marks from where she hit me last week. (No, not scratched, she hit. With her claws.)
I have absolutely no doubt she’d defend him from absolutely any attacker. Attackers made of meat, especially. 
My cat attacked my boyfriend while he was tickling me and I was squealing. I think he’d come to my aid. He’s scary and mean and sharp. He attacks dogs that are much bigger than him.
Alas more Pook pass on many seasons ago and I think he was mad at the world because he was fixed. I think it was about 10 years ago when he died at about 21 years old.
BTW he was a truly large cat. At 20 pounds he still looked sleek. Our cat Beauty weighs 15-16 lbs and looks fat. Pook was an active and agile hunter and one mother’s day he brought my sister a live baby bunny. I doubt I will ever meet a cat like him again. I use to tease my Sister, that he was really a Pouka and that is why she unintentionally gave him the nickname of Pook or Pooky.
Max would attack anyone not properly permitted entry.
Not me, so much, but my cat Noel will beat up on the dog if she thinks the dog is hurting one of the other cats. She’s gotten into some fights with her when one of us has accidentally stepped on one of the other’s tails.
Ah, that sounds somewhat confusing on second glance. Basically it goes like this:
I step on Maggie’s tail. Maggie lets out a loud yelp.
Noel hears. She thinks the dog is hurting Maggie.
Noel comes running in, jumps on the dog, and starts attacking her.
Dog fights back. Someone attempts to break it up, and ends up getting scratched or bitten.
My five precious babies would stand around and wait for me to stop breathing so they could eat me.
Well, at least I’d hope they’d wait for me to stop breathing.
My husband and I were wrestling around, and he pinned me to the ground. I screamed like the woman I am. My oldest, Sebastian (female) first bit his ankle, then batted madly at his back, sticking her claws in his arse. Good kitty.
My youngest cat, Kero, sits on my shoulder. Normally, she loves anyone who loves her, including most strangers. However, if there’s a drunk outside, or a dog, she begins to growl at the window. She will stand near me. I always thought it was because she thought I would protect her, but she won’t allow me to hold her or take her away from the “action”. She will growl and growl until the “danger” has passed, and then she will sit at my feet, keeping her eyes on the window, tail twitching. She also does this to Jehovah’s Witnesses. Good kitty.
However, I have never known any other cats that acted this way. My parents owned about a dozen cats while I was growing up (not all at the same time, sometimes we had two or three, sometimes we rescued them, cleaned them up and gave them away). None of them were ever defenders of anything other than the food bowl.
Most of the cats I’ve known would wait until your attacker left and then steal your wallet.
Naw, she’d run and hide.
Now, my rat Lola, however, would. She’s bitey with anyone or anything she doesn’t know.
One might, say 50/50 depending on his mood.
His little brother? No way. He’d be as far away as his paws could take him.
As for all the cats I’ve known, I’d say a small but significant percentage would have sufficient protective instinct to fight for me. Somewhere between 20 and 30 percent.
That furry traitor would be under the bed in a heartbeat.
One would ignore an intruder. Two would be hiding. The other two would be too busy trying to get luvvin and attention from the “visitor”.
A couple of my cats have alerted me in various ways to a dangerously low blood sugar. Unfortunately, they wait too long and I’m already too far out of it to realize what they are doing.
Well, my newly adopted son’s cat likes to stare at me for long periods of time. -And I don’t mean stare at me as in: “Feed me, I’m hungry” kind of stare; I mean STARE at me like that kid Damion off of the movie “Omen” kind of stare. [damn thing freaks me out to be quite honest with you.]
Then there’s the whole circle 8 thing my cats like to do around my legs as I’m about to walk down the stairway.
So yeah, I’m pretty sure my cats want me dead. Yet, I still continue to feed them anyway. Where’s the logic? :dubious:
Nah. Our cats are fairly non-agressive to begin with, especially since being “snipped”. Jules might be tempted into a little friendly wrestling, but he’s always holding back so he doesn’t draw blood or anything. Vincent doesn’t even do that: the most agressive he gets is when he’s chasing a fly around the house. He’s also the first to bolt when a stranger enters, and usually takes quite some time to get used to a new person - after which he’s very friendly.
Jules is a complete slut, on the other hand.
So, I guess when an axe-wielding maniac would come in, Vincent would hide under the bed, and Jules would sit down in front of him, meowing to be petted.
We need a pitbull.
Max once jumped between me and Cassy while Cassy was trying to protect her injured kitten from me. She, and the hurt, screaminf kitten were under the bed, I dived under to get the kitten, and Cassy came after me, tearing at my face and eyes. Next thing I know, Max is between us, snarling at Cassy, while nudging her away from me.
The kitten recovered nicely, as did my face.
Depends on the cat and the circumstances. It has happened on two occasions.
1.) Maggie treated our daughter MilliCal like her own kitten, and was fiercely protective of her. We were outside one day, and a neighbor’s (very friendly) dog came up to MilliCal. Maggie went ballistic! She arched her back, puffed out the fur on her body and tail, and screeched. She chaerged at the dog, frantically swatting away with one claw-outstretched paw.
The dog must;ve outweighed her by a factor of five, at least. We’re talking about a standard mid-size family pooch here. Maggie was a tabby – not even a Maine Coon like some of our other cats.
The dog ran. Maggie pursued him, all over the yard, until he retreated down the street.
2.) Clarence is our big, fluffy, laid-back Maine Coon cat with one eye. Clarence likes just about everyone, and is always eager for them to pet him. But one day Clarence decided that the guy Pepper Mill was studying with (she was taking college courses evenings) was not a Good Person. He got up on the table, arched his back, and fluffed out. Clarence is a BIG cat – fluffed out he looks enormous. And we’d never seen him do it before, which made it all the more surprising.
Depends what I was being attacked by. Chipmunks? Definitely. Shuriken-weilding ninjas? She’d be in the deepest, darkest closet in the house. To be fair, given any warning, I’d be there too.
The only time it was ever put to the test was when I opened the screen one night and a ginormous June bug buzzed in. Startled the heck out of me and I jumped back. The cat pretty much said, “This one is mine” and calmly batted it out of the air. The ensuing * crunching * noises were deeply disturbing.
Out of 4 cats, only one is protective. My Baby defends me. Someone knocks at the door. Two cats hide in terror; one checks to see if it’s pizza delivery. But my Baby will walk me to the door, growling all the while. She’s been known to chase away Girl Scouts.
One day I was sick in bed and my brother came over. He came in, unannounced, and started walking down the hall. Baby wouldn’t let him in the room. A fat, 25-lbs cat pacing the edge of the bed.
Now my question is: Is she defending me because she loves me or because she’s got first dibs on the body?