Attacking Very Ladylike

(My elderly grandmother lives alone with her cat, Little Girl. One day, while working in her garden, a strange pickup truck drives up. A large middle-aged man gets out.)

Man: “Who lives in that house next door?”

Grandmother: “I don’t know ’em.”

Man: “Well, what’s their phone number?”

Grandmother: “I don’t know their number. They keep to themselves, and I keep to myself.”

Man: “You know their number! Now tell me what it is!”

(The man proceeds to yell profanities at my grandmother, getting louder and more aggressive in his demands for information about the neighbors. As he screams, Little Girl gets between the man and my grandmother and starts growling and hissing.)

Man: “What’s wrong with that [expletive] cat?”

Grandmother: “Mister, that there’s an attack cat. All I gotta say is one word and she’ll rip your face off.”

Little Girl The Cat: *growls louder and takes a few steps closer to the strange man, tail swishing aggressively*

(The man looked from the angry cat to my old grandmother, turned around, and jumped back into his truck. He took off out of the driveway so fast his tires squealed. Though Little Girl passed away some years ago, my grandmother still tells the story of her “attack cat” that defended her from an unwelcome visitor.)