As my father and I sat in the enclosed back porch of a house, looking out at the trees in the forest bordering the small back yard, I was surprised to see an animal, which I identified as a bobcat or a wildcat, standing in the back yard. Strong and healthy-looking, it was about as large as a medium-sized dog and seemed to be brown or gray, perhaps with some stripes on it. I was thrilled to see such an animal there. I had heard rumors that some such animals were about, but I had feared they had all been hunted out.

Suddenly I noticed another similar animal about 10 meters in front of the wildcat. Could two wildcats actually be in the area? However, I quickly realized the second animal wasn't a wildcat, but a dog. The wildcat had also seen the dog, and without hesitation the wildcat suddenly sprung on the back of the dog. I watched transfixed for a moment, thinking I should not interfere. But as the wildcat sank its teeth into the back of the dog and began pulling on the dog's hide, I couldn't bear to see the poor domesticated animal being mauled. I jumped up, ran out the door and dashed straight up to the wildcat.

As soon as I grabbed the cat to pull it off the dog, it turned on me and grabbed the fingers of my right hand in its teeth. I immediately perceived my danger: the cat might be able to rip me to rags. But the cat wasn't trying to hurt me. It wasn't even biting hard enough to break the skin. It was just trying to defend itself without causing me any harm.

Meanwhile, my father had run out of the house with a shotgun. I immediately began calling to him not to shoot. How awful if he were to kill this beautiful creature! All I wanted to do now was extricate myself from the wildcat and send it back into the woods where it would hopefully continue to live.

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