A couple of weeks ago I showed a house in the north end to a pleasant young couple. Upon entering the house we were greeted with a sign "do not pet the cat, not friendly" I saw the unfriendly feline sitting by the door and although I have two cats of my own, taking heed of the warning I ignored the cat and thankfully it ignored us. This non-contact relationship seemed to suit all parties as we toured the property until: we were looking out of the patio doors I knocked against the cat dish spilling some of the contents onto the floor. Conscientiously, I bent down to put the food back into the dish when CATastrophe happened. We were greeted by a distant hiss that grew into a bloodcurdling scream. Armed with a handful of dried Kibble and a copy of the listing as my only weapons I observed from the corner of my still good eye, the devil cat bounding towards me, mouth wide enough to swallow me whole with razor sharp teeth and twenty claws bearing a resemblance to Freddie Crugar and my name written all over them. It all happened so fast: Jumping up I actually had to hold it back with a dining room chair as it tried desperately to eat the poor individual who had the audacity to steal its food. My clients, who were attempting to rush onto the deck by way of the "closed" glass patio doors managed to get out of the way, which really wasn't necessary as it was me the crazy feline was about to enact revenge upon! I managed to get the psychotic Siamese down the hall but soon realized it was sitting between us and the exit door! There it sat, crouched, growling, hissing and pondering which one of us would be starter, main course and dessert. Transforming myself into my Indiana Jones mode I grabbed a large plastic tub that was sitting in the hall and pushed it towards the cat who had no problem showing us how to tear apart large plastic tubs with 20 well groomed sabers. I backed the cat to the basement stairs and as it stood on the top step I let the tub go down, chasing the ferocious feline downstairs. We then ran to the front entrance, I of course exited first followed by my wide-eyed and trembling clients. We managed to scramble out and slam the screen door before the mad cat dived, impalling its nails into the screen. As we got outside and checked ourselves for missing body parts and third degree injuries one of my clients commented "I didn't get to see the bathroom" we just stared at him! When we got into the car I noticed that during all of the confusion I still held onto the fistful and Kibble bits.