So I get this cat. Its a Russian Blue...pretty and it appeared to be quite lovable. His name was Mandu. (Get it?)
I get it home and it is one of those 'never leave you alone' cats. Rubbing up against your leg, mewing sweetly and generally making a nuisance of himself. I am sitting at the desk, surfing the net and Mandu is exploring. He finds his way under the desk and is rubbing against my leg which is my queue to reach down and pet him, right?
So I reach down and am petting him when all of a sudden he chomps down on my hand. I scream but he does not let go, he has a death grip on my hand. I look down and he is looking at me with crazy eyes, his ears flattened to his head.
I have to literally kick him (which is not an easy task for a fat chick) to get him to let go. He finally does and as I tend to my wounds, he is sitting in the corner, growling at me.
This is when I rename him Norman. (fucking psycho)