Our cat, Hazza, is deeply disturbed. She fears nothing, not even my dog. The house is not a safe place when she is on the rampage. She tears around the livingroom, banking it off the walls, claws out for optimal traction of course. She wages a geurilla war, laying in wait, the suprise attack, inflicting bloody pin pricks, then she's gone, off to stake out her next victim. She feigns affection when it siuts her needs, then steals the food right off your plate when you're not looking. I've never met a cat like this before, a few people maybe, but never a cat.
One of these days I'm going to let her meet the dog, in person . . .