On a not entirely dissimilar note, a reader sends along an anecdote which I strip of its context and reprint with permission:
...reminds me of something that happen when I was still on the farm. My dad and I were stringing fence when one of the neighborhood cats cut through the field on his way to his hunting grounds. A new coon hound we had bought suddenly sped across the field, grabbed the cat, and threw it into the air. As he waited, jaws agape, for the cat to come back down, my dad heaved his hammer. It took the dog in the back of the head, dropping him. The cat lit on all fours and stood there shaking as the dog came to. The dog took one look at the cat and left the area of engagement at full afterburner. Thereafter, when any cat came into view, the dog would retreat to his doghouse and, I suppose, peruse his collection of Playmutts (last month's centerfold, a fox terrier, is really hot by the way). He probably wasn't sure how the cat did it, but he seemed convinced cats pack one heck of a punch.