It is difficult to believe, but just as there are bad people, there are bad cats. And I am not writing about cats who score tuna sandwiches off the table or have accidents on the carpet. I mean evil cats, cats who would harm other cats. It is not unknown for tomcats, especially feral toms, to attack kittens that are not their own. Chalk it up to instinct or abusive upbringings, but it does happen.

My first and only experience with an evil tom came a number of years ago. My then-wife and I had obtained a couple of cats from the pound, kittens to be more specific. We had only one cat after the tragic demise of Snow King, and we thought a few new cats would liven things up a bit. So we went to the pound and carefully selected an adult female cat and a kitten.

Just before we left the pound we saw a tiny, pathetic, grey kitten lying in his cage. He was very weak and sickly. We didn't think he had much of a chance but we decided to adopt him anyhow. At least he could pass away in a nice home instead of in a cage at the pound. We certainly didn't believe anyone else would adopt him in his condition.

When we got him home he perked up a little bit and ate a small amount of food and milk. Then he collapsed again and we figured he was a goner. After a bit we carried him to the litter box so he would at least know where it was. He just lay there in the litter. After awhile we noticed he was moving, and upon closer inspection we saw he was very feebly pushing litter around with his paws. He hadn't relieved himself so we were puzzled, what was he up to?

Then my wife figured it out. "Why..." she said "he's playing!" And lo and behold she was right. The poor little guy was almost too weak to move, but nonetheless he apparently had never seen litter before and was doing his best to have some fun with it. We knew then that Max, for that was what we would call him, was going to be OK.

And he was. After a few days and some more food he livened right up and turned into a little terror, rocketing around the house with his stepsister and doing all the things a healthy, happy kitten does. Max did have some strange habits: if he got really upset he would literally throw a hissy fit. He would puff up and bounce around and snarl and hiss and spit like nobody's business. While it was supposed to be threatening, in a ten week old kitten it was simply unbearably cute. And it saved his life.

For a week or so after Max came to live with us I was in the house when I heard him having a hissy fit in the side yard. I went to investigate and to my shock poor Max was bouncing on the ground bleeding from his throat while a puzzled looking black feral tom stood by. I chased the tom away while the little Max guy crawled about ten feet and collapsed into a bed of alyssum flowers. It was one of the saddest sights of my life.

I frantically arranged to get a ride to the vet, it seemed to take forever. Fortunately, while Max was severely injured and had lost a lot of blood, no permanent harm was done. If he had not had his hissy fit he would likely be a dead kitten. It almost certainly confused the tom that had attacked him, and more importantly it had alerted me that something was wrong.

A few days later I went to pick him up from the vet on my bike. I was afraid he would be traumatised riding home in a box on a bike, when I got him home he had been happily suckling on his own chest. Another odd habit that he eventually outgrew, but for a long time he often had a wet belly where he had chewed on himself. We assumed he had been taken from his mother too young.

As the months passed Max grew to be a great grey tom with a fabulous disposition. He was a gorgeous cat and he would follow me everywhere. Another unfortunate habit that led to another Max adventure. Life had moved on and I was living in my truck with Max and Miss Kitty, his stepsister. One night I went to a movie with a friend and when I got back Max was nowhere to be found. I looked high and low but no Max. I had to leave town the next day so I put up a bunch of flyers with a friend's phone number and hoped for the best.

And luck was with me and Max. A few weeks later I got a call from someone who had found Max and was feeding him. He had been found about halfway between where I had parked and the movie theatre, he must have followed me that night and got lost. When I returned to the country six months later I was able to retrieve him safe and sound.

Then Max moved with us to Boise, Idaho, where he had his final adventure. Or at least the last one I know about. I lived in a little apartment with Max several miles from where my wife was living. After a few months I moved back in with my wife and vacated my apartment, of course taking Max with me. Within hours of moving he disappeared.

We looked everywhere for him, and began the usual flyering process. A few days later we got a call from my former landlord. Turns out Max had showed up back there and the new tenants wanted us to come get him. He had travelled over 2 miles through downtown Boise to get back to his familiar apartment. We went and retrieved him. Fortunately the new tenants had liked him so it was not a big deal.

We brought him home and kept him locked in for a week. Then we let him out and after a day or two he disappeared again. This time we didn't panic. We simply waited a week and then called the new tenants. No surprise, Max, or Shadow as they called him, had returned to his old haunts.

So we went over there and discussed the situation with the new tenants, a nice woman and her teenage daughter. It was apparent that the daughter really liked Max, and obviously he returned the affection. It was arranged that Max would stay with them and then move back with them to their farm in Oregon. This was clearly what Max wanted so we could only but agree.

I hope that Max has a long and happy life in Oregon. He certainly ended up in a better living situation than most I have ever arranged for myself. That is often the case in my life, but if one's cats live happily ever after then I think it is all worthwhile. Wherever you are, Max, I wish you the best and I will always remember the little grey kitten feebly playing in the litter box. Great things do come in small packages.