Clarence loves the Jay Dubs, and invites them in. They pet him.
Many years ago, when I was dating, I had my Bear…a 14 lb. wonderful best friend.
If I had a date over, Bear would park himself on the back of the couch in between us. That was usually a signal that the guy wasn’t all that great. And to be truthful, it usually turned out to be true.
That’s sort of defending…
I would count it.
Bob the cat, now in cat heaven, was an indoor cat. Sometimes we took him out and let him roam in the front of our condo. The next door cat, Alex, was an outdoor cat who looked almost exactly like Bob - both orange males. They got along fine until one fateful day when all hell broke loose. My ex was standing near the door, and out of the blue Alex jumped up all the way up and attached himself by his teeth to my ex’s arm. I was in shock but managed to bat Alex down,
getting my hands ripped in the process. At that point, out meek indoor cat Bob went to town on Alex, letting him know that it was not OK to mess with his humans. I turned on the hose and broke it up, but both cats ended up at the vets
for war wounds, and my ex ended up at the urgent care. The funniest thing about this is that the t-shirt he was wearing has a perfect set of holes in the shape of a cat’s mouth, on the sleeve where Alex attached himself.
To this day, I treat orange cats with a mixture of affection and fear. Some of them are a bit psycho, but that’s cool. I love a cat with personality.
My black and white pair of fuzzie monsters Stan and Ollie would be a great help. They would twine around the feet of an attacker and nuzzle for affection distracting the axe weilding lunatic in time for me to take evasive action.
They are the most shameless love sponge attention whore cats I’ve ever known.
The closest we’ve come to testing this was when an unknown cat came to the door, threatening to come in. Missy puffed out, hissed, then turned around and attacked **me ** before hiding under the bed.
What is it about Maine Coons? I had a cat named Lincoln who was at least in part Maine Coon. He used to walk me and my little sister us to the bus stop when I was a wee youngin. He would be there in the afternoon to get us off the bus, and follow us home. One day he decided that he needed to check that big yellow thing out too. So he followed us up the bus’ steps, looked around a bit and got back off the bus. Much to the amusement of the bus driver. Another time my sister and I were playing in the front yard and a german shepard was barking and growling and walking up the street towards our place. Lincoln bolted out of the house and jumped onto the dogs back and held on with his front paws and teeth and raked the poor dog with his back paws ala lions hunting buffalo in Africa. That dog started yelping and turned tail back to whence he came. Lincoln came back about ten minutes later no worse for the wear and I don’t ever remember seeing that dog again. BTW he was called Lincoln because my uncle found him under a Lincoln Continental near Lincoln Park in D.C. I think he lived to be about 18 and was one of the best cats anyone ever had.
Mine would run for the hills (also known as the unexplored country under the couch). And they’re both Maine Coon mixes. 
This is with plenty of empirical evidence from workmen or visitors.
My Ichabod might defend me. She hates strangers. Back when I lived in an apartment and called maintenance, they wouldn’t come unless I was there because they were afraid of her.
Halfie would hide under the couch, but I think Lady might lend a paw.
Why? This is a not infrequent scenario:
Halfie, noting that the humans are in the food room, runs in to make sure he can try to trip the humans so they’ll drop whatever food they might be holding. Making a miscalculation, he sticks his tail under a large foot. This hurts, so he yowls. Loudly. Upon hearing this, Lady, a very intimidating looking cat all of eight pounds and sans tail, lopes into the room. Then she proceeds to beat the crap out of Halfie until he can get her to stop chasing him and biting and swatting at him.
Now, the question remains - is she defending us because she thinks he tried to hurt us, or is she punishing him for yowling so damn loudly?
If I was being attacked by budgies… maybe.
Mr. Spock, the largest of my herd, would be under the couch (or in the process of stuffing his 25lb self under there - it can take a few minutes). Gweniever would show a burglar where the silverware is hidden if he fed her. Yogi and Maggie would trip the attacker. Tino would talk him to death. Bill and Lt. Dax would ignore him. Cricket would probably defend me because I’m hers and no one else has the right to mess with me.
[slight Hi-Jack]
I love the names of your cats.
Bill (the Cat); my favorite Comic Character
Mr. Spock; my favorite TV character
Gweniever is very close to Guenivere; My favorite daughter (my only daughter, so don’t lecture me))
Yogi; I assume named after either Yogi Berra my favorite living baseball player or at least Yogi Bear who was named after Yogi Berra.
Who was Maggie named after?
Any chance Tino is for Tino Martinez?
Cricket is just cool
Lt. Dax, I assume there might be a story to this?
My dear departed Thomas and my calico, Dolphie, once defended me from my dad’s cat. I was sitting in an armchair in the corner, and Daisy, and evil tortoiseshell fatty, was behind the chair, growling her head off at me. Thomas flushed her out and she ran right into the waiting Dolphie. They double teamed her and she peed herself. Though I felt a little bad for Daisy, I must admit my heart was warmed by their show of force on my behalf, even though I had to clean the floor.
As for human attackers, or canine-- I wouldn’t want my kitties to try to defend me from them. I’d want them to run away so they wouldn’t get hurt.
Gweniever is my oldest - she’s a Hawaiian Bat Cat. I got her while I was Assistant Stage Manager for the play Camelot at Army Community Theater (Fort Shafter). I’ve always loved the Arthurian tales.
Bill was named for Bill the Cat - he was the absolutely ugliest kitten I’ve ever seen. Bug eyed, huge belly with little scrawny legs - we kept him after he was weaned because he was so ugly I was afraid he would never get adopted. I bottle raised him and his beautiful sister after a lady discovered them in a bathtub that had been delivered to her house. I am glad to say Bill is no longer ugly - he matured into a handsome tuxedo cat.
Yogi is a polydactyl - he has extra toes and the vet I worked for decided to keep him as a clinic cat. Dr. Hall named him after Yogi Berra - I wanted to name him Frankie after our hockey team goalie - he would have made a great goalie with those feet!
Maggie’s formal name is Sugar Magnolia, after the Grateful Dead song - “heads all empty but I don’t care…”
Tino’s formal name is Valentino - he’s my only purebred (Siamese) and was a Valentines Day gift from Mr. SCL.
Cricket named herself - she was another bottle baby. I had only had her a few days and hadn’t thought of a name. I was going to heat up her bottle and said to Mr. SCL “I’m going to heat up Cricket’s bottle.” Then I was saying "Where did that come from? " It’s obiviously not the usual type of name I give my cats. I decided she had told me mentally what her name was.
Lt. Dax was named after the character played by Terry Ferrell on Deep Space Nine . I read a wonderful anthology of stories about the lives of Dax (the symbiont) edited by Marco Palmieri. (The Lives Of Dax) I had just finished the book when 3-day old Dax arrived at my home as a solid white blue-eyed baby. While she started developing colors as a Siamese does, hers were not limited to face, feet and tail as a normal Siamese does. Her color patterns (which I swear change, even tho I know that’s impossible) reminded me of the markings on Jadzia Dax temples, so that became her name.
Mr Spock - I’ve had a crush on him since I was a child. Hopeless, I know.
Sorry about the long post, but I love talking about my babies!
Snakescatlady Thanks and sorry for the small Hi-Jack.